


Ten Kids, No Order

by elliot_ay_ (nikisamazing)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cubs, Good Peter, M/M, Puppies, Stiles and Derek can be good parents?, The Pack is made of cubs?, Trans Character, Uncle Peter, idek?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 60,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7639480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikisamazing/pseuds/elliot_ay_
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles thought it was cute when Derek started bringing home strays. Now they take care of ten kids (including two of Derek's siblings), and it's still kind of cute even if their house is crazy. With Derek as the alpha and Stiles a powerful mage looking to build his coven, nothing can go wrong.....right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

“Derek, you have _got_ to be kidding me,” Stiles says, adjusting Scott on his left hip and Boyd on his right. “Like, really.”

“Yeah, Papa, you’ve _got_ to be kidding us,” Scott says, waving his hands for emphasis.

Derek plops the carrier down on the ground and gives Stiles an apologetic look. “There’s another one, too.”

“Derek.”

“They’re from the Lahey pack, and he was abusing the older one. I made a deal to keep them,” Derek says. “Let me go get Isaac.”

“Do we have custody yet?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, going back out the door and coming back with a single duffel and a boy that appears to be about six, covered in alpha-caused bruises. “Isaac, this is Stiles, my husband. You can call him Babi. You and your sister are going to be part of our pack now, okay?”

“How many kids do you have?” Isaac asks, cocking his head as he looks at Erica coloring on the ground.

“Well, we have Scott, Boyd, Erica, Jackson, Petey, Miriam, and you and your sister. And we take care of Derek’s little sister and brother, Cora and Liam.”

“Are they all wolves?” Isaac asks, eyes wide.

“No, Liam and Miriam are human, Jackson is a kanima, and Petey is like me, a spark. She and I are training to make her as good a witch as her babi, right, hon?”

She hugs him, easily avoiding the half-hearted kick from Scott. “Babi, can Cora and Liam and me make cookies?”

Cora pops her head in. “Stiles, I’ve already started dinner, but Petey and Liam really want to make cookies, too.”

Stiles kisses Petey’s head. “Sure. Der and I will get the new kids settled in and write Isaac into the chore chart and then we’ll be down for dinner. Set up Scott’s old high chair, too, will you?”

“‘Course,” she says, giving him a thumbs-up.

“Oh, and Cora?”

She pops her head back in. “Yeah?”

“Entertain Scott and Boyd,” Stiles says, putting both boys down to face immediate pouts.

Derek kisses Stiles’s forehead and picks up the carrier. “Isaac, will you come with us?”

Isaac nods and follows Derek and Stiles to the second floor. Stiles opens the door to one of the kids’ rooms. “Isaac, you’ll be here with Scott and Jackson. Next door to you is Liam and Boyd’s room, and across the hall are Cora’s room, Petey and Miriam's room, and what will be Erica and your sister’s room.”

“Can I have a top bunk?” Isaac asks, pointing the the two bunk beds in the room. Right now, Jackson has the top bunk on the left and Scott the bottom on the right.

“Sure, you can share with Scott,” Stiles says. “Now, let’s unpack this duffel of yours so we can figure out what we need to get you tomorrow.”

Derek rests a hand on Stiles’s neck. “Some of Ida’s stuff is in there, too. I’m going to work on putting Scott’s old crib back together, but if you could set it aside, that’d be great.”

“Sure, Der,” Stiles says, already unzipping the bag. He begins sorting clothes by clean and dirty and Ida and Isaac. “Hey, bud, some of this stuff looks a little small. What size do you wear?”

“Six-eight,” Isaac says, chewing on his lower lip. “But five-six is ‘kay, too -”

Stiles chuckles. “We have some old stuff of Liam’s if you’d like to come look at it,” he says. “He’s ten, but we planned on keeping his stuff for Boyd, Scott, and Jackson when they’re big enough. Jackson and Boyd are already in some of it, but -”

“Thank you, Misser Stiles,” Isaac says, hugging Stiles and then letting go and wincing.

Stiles squats and pulls him into another hug. “Of course, bud.” Then he picks the kid up and carries him up past the third floor to the attic. “The third floor is Papa’s and mine,” he says. “Papa works from there, and I have my workshop. Grandpa, my dad, and Uncle Peter, Derek's uncle, live up here, too. The kids aren’t allowed up there unless you’re with me or Papa, or you’re Petey and I’ve asked you to get me something from my workshop. Papa and I also sleep up here. The attic is mostly storage, so you shouldn’t really ever need to go past the second floor. Sound okay?”

Isaac nods and sets his arms around Stiles’s neck so softly Stiles can barely feel it. “Will I get in trouble if I come up here?”

Stiles hefts him up a little more as he decides how to answer. “Papa and I don’t want you up here because it can be dangerous,” he says finally. “One of the rules is not to come up here, so, no, we would not be happy, but you will _never_ get hit for disobeying us, or for any other reason. We have a consequence system, mostly being denied privileges, but it’s mostly bedtime and TV time and stuff.”

Isaac nods. “Where’s the clothes?”

Stiles pulls the box out and lets Isaac root around it. Everything they buy the kids is plain, but the kids can elect to spend allowance and any money they earn on clothes they want. Derek and Stiles want the kids to be able to share clothes and hand them down. Everything they buy the kids is unisex, but, right now, only some of it is the right size to fit Isaac.

Once Isaac (and Stiles) have been through the box, Stiles takes Isaac’s hand and holds the clothes in the other. “Do you want to take a bath before dinner? I can run one for you.”

Isaac nods, and Stiles leads him to one of the two bathrooms on the second floor. When remodeling, Derek and Stiles decided to turn one of the second floor rooms into a mega-bathroom, with two showers, one bathtub, a toilet, a urinal, and four sinks. The other one is Cora’s, and has only a shower, toilet, and sink. Stiles runs a bath in the mega bathroom and shows Isaac where the towels are, leaving a set of pajamas just inside the door and popping his head into the room where Derek is going between the toddler and the crib. Ida is still strapped into her case, but she’s getting more antsy, even with Derek entertaining her by flashing his eyes and teeth at her until she laughs.

Stiles smiles and kisses Derek, setting a pile of baby clothes next to him. “Hey, Der. How’s it going?”

“Pretty good. How’s Isaac?”

“He’s in the bath,” Stiles says. “I took him to the attic, explained about the third floor, and got him and Ida some more clothes. I’ll do a load of laundry of their old stuff tonight, too.”

“I’ll put Ida in some of the used clothes tonight. Make sure Isaac’s in used pajamas, too - we want to get him used to the smell of his new pack quickly.”

“Yes, sir!” Stiles says, saluting and then kissing him again. “Dinner in fifteen minutes, love.”

“Yes, Stiles.” Derek flashes his teeth at Ida again. “Chore chart?”

“I’ll do it. Or, rather, I’ll make Cora do that.”

“I HEARD THAT!”

“I’m aware.” Stiles goes and puts Isaac’s stuff away in the drawers, mixing used and new. The sheets on the bed have been used by every kid in the house at this point, and Derek and Stiles make sure to get their scent in every kid’s bed, too.

By the time Stiles comes back to the bathroom, Isaac is out of the bath and dressed in the pajamas. He’s folded the towel and his clothes. Stiles chuckles and sticks a new label with Isaac’s name over one of the towel hooks and puts Isaac’s towel on it. “Towels and sheets are done every Sunday,” Stiles says. “In the morning, you’ll strip your bed and bring your sheets, blanket, and towel to the laundry room. Liam or Petey can show you where it is on Sunday. I think Cora and Boyd are on laundry this week. There’s a chore chart. You’ll have one chore each week, along with daily ones like keeping your room neat, clearing your dishes, and cleaning up any little messes you make. This sound okay?”

Isaac nods and takes Stiles’s hand, which just about melts his heart. “How old is everyone?”

“We’ll introduce you at dinner,” Stiles says. “Okay if I pick you up?”

Isaac nods, and, though Stiles makes it clear he can, doesn’t scent the warlock. “I’m in kindergarten,” he informs Stiles. “I just turned six. My mom baked me a cake but the alpha wouldn’t let me eat it.”

Stiles kisses his head. “If you eat your veggies,” he whispers conspiratorially, “you can have two cookies!”

Isaac giggles and Stiles brings him into the dining room, where everyone sits patiently in their seats. Cora has added a chair for Isaac and the high chair for Ida, who Derek brings in on his hip a moment later.

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles says. “How was work?”

“Great,” the sheriff says. “Hey, squirt,” he says to Isaac. “What’s your name?”

“Isaac,” he says. “Are you Misser Stiles’s daddy?”

“Grandpa,” John says. “How old are you, Isaac?”

“Six,” he says, pulling his knees up to his chest. “Ida is two,” he adds.

“Stiles,” Derek says, tugging on his hand.

Stiles sits down. “Okay: oldest to youngest, go.”

The sheriff huffs. “Grandpa, and I’m not telling you how old I am.”

Peter slides in. “Derek’s children have taken to calling me Uncle Peter -”

“Don’t lie, you love it,” Stiles says.

“- and I, too, have no obligation to tell you of my age.”

Derek laughs. “Papa, and I’m twenty-nine.”

“Babi,” Stiles says. “I’m twenty-four.”

“I’m Cora, and I’m sixteen,” she says. “Derek is my brother, not my dad, by the way.”

“Miriam, ten and a half.” She knits in her lap where she thinks Stiles can’t see.

“Needles away,” Stiles says. Miriam pouts and obeys.

“Liam, and I’m ten.”

“Petey,” she says, waving brightly at Isaac. “I’ve had nine years of CRAZY!”

“Petey,” Derek says, and that’s enough to calm her.

“I’m Erica, and I’m seven but I’m almost eight,” she says, crossing her arms.

“Oh, sh-”

“Jackson, think carefully before you finish that,” Derek says.

“My name is Jackson,” the boy says instead. “I’m seven.”

“Boyd. Five.”

“I’m Scott, and I’m three.” Scott holds up four fingers.

“Scott, you turned four,” the sheriff says, smiling.

“Oh yeah,” Scott says. “Babi, I’m hungry.”

“Okay, go for it,” Stiles says, and there’s chaos for a bit while everyone gets food. Stiles makes sure everyone gets some of all the food and sits back next to Derek, watching his family eat together.

//

“Babi,” Scott whispers, not very well, and tugs on Stiles’s hand.

“Go t’sleep, Scott. Why are you on the third floor?”

“Babi, we need you,” Scott says.

Stiles huffs. “Where’s Papa?”

“We need you, Babi,” Scott says.

Stiles groans and gets out of bed, pulling his basketball shorts higher over his hips. “What’s wrong, Scotty?”

Scott pulls on his hand and leads him to their room. Inside, Jackson is trying to talk Isaac down from the top bunk, but the wolf is crying and curled up in a ball in one corner. “He woke us up by crying,” Scott says. “Jackson and me tried to make him to come sleep in my bunk with us but he got like that.”

Stiles kisses Scott’s head absently and gently pushes Jackson away. The two boys sit on the bunk below Jackson’s bed and watch.

“Isaac, bud, it’s Babi,” Stiles says. “Will you come towards me a little?”

Isaac doesn’t move closer, but he doesn’t cry as hard, either, so Stiles counts it as a win. “Smells wrong,” he says.

“Isaac, please,” Stiles says, and the boy responds, moving just enough for Stiles to pick him up off the bed and hold him close until he stops crying. Derek eventually comes in to scent the child, then pulling Scott and Jackson from the bed into his arms.

“Papa,” Jackson says, pouting, “can we all sleep with you tonight? Like everyone?”

Derek lets out a big sigh and Stiles knows it’s going to be a yes. “Get your blankets and pillows. Everyone’s going to be on the ground.”

Jackson and Scott let out twin victory howls. Derek sets them down and they get the bedding, going to get the other kids, too. Stiles takes Isaac and his bedding upstairs and sets him up right next to his side of the bed, where Isaac will be able to see and smell and touch him. Scott and Jackson fight for the other coveted spots while the other six kids and Cora find other spots, even though Cora brought an inflatable mattress, which Liam quickly gets a spot on with his sister.

Isaac whimpers and refuses to let go of Stiles. Finally Derek huffs - they’ve been trying to go to sleep for ten minutes - and pulls the boy on the bed easily. This is apparently an immediate invitation for every other child to come join the cuddle puddle, and Derek and Stiles end up only touching where they hold hands, even though Derek usually sleep with Stiles wrapped up so tightly in him that Stiles has to wake Derek up to get out of his grasp.

//

“Babi,” Petey says.

“Yes, Miss Petey?”

“Someone knocked at the door and asked for you and Papa wants you to go,” she says. “And everyone ‘cept Scott and Ida are at school and Uncle Peter’s at work and so is -”

Stiles laughs and takes her hand. “Let’s go see who it is. Did you answer the door?”

“No, Papa did. But then he told me to come get you and he gave me his Alpha-glare that -”

“Sh, sh, Petey,” Stiles says. Derek and Stiles discovered that the spark usually meant hyperactivity and attention deficit disorder. Stiles went off Adderall years ago when he discovered it meant that it was harder to reach his spark. Since Petey is like him, Stiles homeschools her. She is calmer - able to sit through the required hours of school every week, that is - after spending the mornings doing magic. “Did you see who it was?”

“She had a toddler with her,” Petey says.

Stiles nods and opens the door, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “My apologies,” he says. “My husband gets sucked into his work easily. He must have forgotten to invite you inside.”

“It’s alright,” the woman says, also pushing hair out of her eyes. “My, who’s this?”

“This is Petey. She homeschools. And you?”

“This is Allison,” she says. “And my name is Lauren.”

Stiles smiles at the dark-haired, dark-eyed toddler. “My name is Stiles. Your daughter is beautiful. Can I offer you anything to drink?”

“STILES!” Derek yells.

“Come downstairs, babe,” Stiles calls back.

“Allison is actually my niece. My husband’s brother, sister, and sister-in-law died -”

“Stiles,” Derek says through gritted teeth, “she’s an Argent.”

“Yes, do you know Chris? Her father?”

“Kate killed my father, mother, older sister, aunt, and two cousins,” Derek says, crossing his arms and doing the Alpha-glare until Stiles elbows him. “And tried to kill Stiles, too.”

“So you were the -”

“No, that was my uncle,” Derek says, rubbing his eyes. “Please, we have a house full of children. Don’t attack us.”

“We don’t hunt,” Lauren says. “Mike and I are completely opposed to it. We’re only taking care of Allison because Gerard is too old and crazy to do it.”

Derek gets a glass of water and gulps it down. Then he kisses Stiles’s head. “Want me to take Petey for a bit?”

“No!” Petey says. “Babi and I haven’t -”

“Yes, please.” Stiles kisses Petey’s forehead. “Petey, I’m going to have a talk with Mrs. Argent.”

“I wanna talk!”

“You have to be over one and a half meters,” Stiles says, gently pushing her towards Derek.

She crosses her arms, plants her feet, and casts a spell to make herself one and a half meters tall.

“Petey,” Derek growls.

“She’s a spark,” Stiles says to Lauren. “Petey, if you don’t go upstairs with your papa -”

She huffs, shrinks, and lets Derek carry her up to his office.

“Is she powerful?” Lauren asks.

“Would you like a cup of tea, or coffee, or hot chocolate?” Stiles asks. “And Petey is powerful, but not enormously so. I can do some things she’ll never be able to do, but by no means is she weak. And she still relies on her emotions to cast spells, which is the sign of a young or inexperienced magic user.”

“How long have you two been training?” She shifts Allison around. “And coffee would be great.”

“I knew she was a spark from the first time I saw her, when she was three, but we didn’t start training her until we adopted her, when she was six.” Stiles holds his hands out for the kid. “I have a childproof playroom we can put her in while we talk. There are toys and everything has been toddler-proofed.”

“Sure,” Lauren agrees, letting Stiles put Allison inside the baby gate of a room with a few stuffed animals and some blocks in an open bin and everything else in latched chests.

Stiles pours two cups of coffee. “Milk? Sugar?”

“No, thank you.”

Stiles chuckles and puts both in his coffee, then leaning on the butcher’s block and looking at her. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, three things: I can’t seem to find the preschool - I need to register Allison - I need someone to babysit in the afternoons, and I was wondering if you’re looking to build your coven?”

“I can drive you to the preschool when I go to pick Scott up, Der and I can babysit, and why do you want to know about my coven? You don’t have magic.”

“No, I don’t, but my husband and our daughter, Lydia, do. Lyds is at school.” Lauren runs a hand through strawberry-blonde hair.

“Yeah, I am looking to build my coven,” Stiles says. “Right now it’s just me and Petey, not that I’ve really sought anyone else out. Has Lydia been trained at all?”

“No, she’s eight and even Mike is only partially trained. He knows enough to know she’s special, but…” Lauren huffs. “But our last coven got attacked, and Mike’s the only one that made it out.”

“Why don’t you guys come for dinner tomorrow?” Stiles asks.

“Sure, we only live next door,” she says.

“As much as I’d love for you to stay and talk,” Stiles says, “I do need to get back to Petey. She has magic training in the morning and then lessons at night. Does Lydia have any trouble concentrating?”

“No, not at all.”

Stiles hums. “That’s interesting.”

“How so?”

“Most sparks have ADD,” Stiles says. He hands Allison to Lauren. Then she leaves.

“Can we do magic now, Babi?” Petey says, having raced down the stairs the second the door closed.

Stiles chuckles and kisses her head. “Yes, Petey.”

//

“Isaac, how was your first day?” Stiles asks, handing out apple-and-peanut butter rings he’d made for snack.

“Fine. My teacher made me introduce myself. Boyd is in my class.”

“Did you play with him in school?” Stiles picks the boy up and yells, “Petey, no playing until we’ve finished the potions for the day!”

Isaac shakes his head and then nods. “Entire pack played together. Me, Boyd, Jackson, Erica, everyone.”

Petey appears in the kitchen. “‘Kay, Babi. When can we finish ‘em?”

“Well, we have the big shipment of wolfsbane-cure for the Diaz pack,” Stiles says. “You know that potion, right?”

Petey nods. “What else?”

“The face cream for the online shop,” Stiles says slowly. “And I think that’ll be enough for today. What herbs are we low on, hon?”  
She chews on her lip and starts listing them off. Stiles follows her up the stairs, nodding. He sets Isaac on the second floor. “No kids on the third floor when Petey and I are making potions,” he says. “Sorry, hon.”

Isaac nods and watches Stiles and Petey go.

Petey hunches over one stove while Stiles is over another, each muttering to themselves as they add ingredients, stir, and spell the potions. The potion Petey is making is one she’s made a million times, but still Stiles watches to make sure nothing goes wrong. His own potion, while slightly less precise, requires more magical control.

“How’s that going, witchlet?”

“Babi,” she complains, “don’t call me witchlet.”

“Well, you’re not my cub, and you’re not a tiny human, and you’re not a full-grown witch, so what else can I call you?” He makes a big hand gesture and pouts before adding some more herbs to the pot.

She sighs and puts a few drops of lemon juice into her pot. “Okay, Babi.”

He smiles. “I’m proud of you, witchlet.”

She hugs him with one thin arm. “Babi, are we going to make a coven?”

“Yes, Petey. Mr. Argent and Lydia are going to come train with us. Lydia’s about your age.”

She snorts. “I don't -”

“I'm the head mage of the coven, Petey,” Stiles reminds her, a note of Derek’s steel alpha tone running through his voice.

Petey frowns but looks back at her potion.

Stiles turns off the stove beneath his potion a few moments later, stirring it once more and then leaving it to cool before washing his hands.

Derek pops his head in. “Hey, babe? Scotty has a wolfsbane burn.”

“From what?” Stiles asks, leaning against the counter.

“I think he tried to open your wolfsbane cabinet,” Derek says. “He's just crying at the moment.”

Stiles looks at Petey. “Are you almost done?”

She nods. “But we have a little bit leftover in that cupboard. It should be enough for a burn.”

Stiles kisses her head. “Yell for me or Papa if anything goes wrong.”

She rolls her eyes. “It won't, Babi. I could make this in my sleep.”

Stiles chuckles and grabs the cream, following Derek to where Scott sits near the wolfsbane cabinet, crying and screaming.  
“I tried to quiet him, but there was only so much I could do,” Derek says quietly.

Isaac hovers at the doorway, looking pale and scared. “Take Isaac outside,” Stiles says brusquely. “The cream will hurt before it works.”

Derek grimaces and takes Isaac away. Stiles gathers Scott onto his lap and opens the cream once he’s sure Derek and Isaac are far enough away. Stiles takes fingerfuls of the cream, feeling the magic tingle, and starts rubbing it onto Scott, who immediately starts screaming louder. Soon all of the kids are gathering around them. Cora even reaches out to draw the pain from Scott as best she can (which isn't great, to be honest).

Soon, the cream starts working, and Scott stops crying, sniffling into Stiles’s shirt. Derek comes back in with Isaac, who also looks like he's been crying, and takes the last of Scott’s pain. Then he hugs both Scott and Stiles tightly before doing the alpha glare at Scott.

“There was a reason the cabinet was locked,” Derek growls. “We don't want you to get hurt.”

“And ant crawed in,” Scott sniffles. He's almost unintelligible.

“Don't touch the cabinet again,” Derek says.

Isaac now starts to cry, and Stiles picks him up. Derek runs a hand over his head and down his face and then kisses his head. Isaac still cries into the crook of Stiles’s neck, and Stiles begins a slow walk towards the stairs. When Stiles gets to Isaac’s bed, he sets the boy on it and climbs up, pulling him back into his arms. Isaac’s crying quiets after a little while, and he climbs back off the bed and carries the child down the stairs to the room christened the homework room. In it there is a big table, and at the table the kids do their homework. Stiles sets Isaac in a chair and fetches his backpack, kissing the curly blonde head in front of him. “I need to go do some work, Isaac,” he murmurs, “but I’ll be available if you need me, okay?”

He nods, and Stiles leaves, ruffling his hair once more.

//

“Babi Babi Babi Babi Babi,” Petey says, running through the house in only a pair of jeans.

“Petey Petey Petey Petey Petey,” Stiles says, catching her in his arms. “Where’s your clothing, baby girl?”

“Me and Isaac don’t wanna wear clothes,” she declares, giggling.

“Well, we’re having guests, so you have to,” he says, gently tugging her towards the stairs. “Where’s Isaac?”

“In his room. And you like it when Papa doesn’t wear clothes.”

“That’s different,” Stiles says. “We’re over the height limit.” They start up the stairs.

“What about the werewolves? When they run, they don’t hafta wear clothes.”

Stiles kisses her forehead. “Nobody is running tonight, Petes.”

She sighs and lets him pull a shirt over her head. It’s one that they bought for Cora when she first came to live with them, when Stiles was working through college and trying to learn magic, and Derek was fucked up but they were trying.

The shirt was red, but it’s been washed so many times it’s now pink.

Stiles takes Petey to Isaac’s room, where the little boy is calmly sitting on his bed, fully clothed and reading a book. Stiles shoots Petey a dirty look and holds his arms out for Isaac. “You ready for dinner with the Argents, bud?” he asks, one arm holding Isaac up and the other herding Petey along.

Isaac snuggles into his neck, not answering. Stiles sighs and opens the door to the stairs.

“Babi?” Petey asks.

“Yes, Miss Petey?”

“Is Lydia ‘n Mr. Argent gonna take my place in the coven?” She chews on a fingernail.

“Are they,” Stiles automatically corrects. “And no, sweetie. You’re my daughter. They can never replace you.”

She smiles. “And they’re not joining the pack, right?”

“Right. Pack and coven are separate.”

She skips the rest of the way down the stairs. At the bottom, she looks up at Stiles. “Want me to tell Papa to call everyone?”

“Yes, please.” Stiles shifts Isaac, pausing on a landing, and Petey disappears. “Can I put you down, Isaac?”

He clutches harder. “Argents here.”

“Okay, buddy.” Stiles pets his back as comfortingly as he can. “Let’s go see Papa.”

Derek is putting plates and utensils on the table. “I sent Cora to get the Argents,” he says. “The other kids are on their ways.”

Stiles grabs his hand and tilts his head sideways at the kid he holds. “Anything else?”

Derek freezes and then folds the two of them into his arms. He scents Isaac and says, “You have nothing to worry about, pup. Babi and I will take care of you.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

“Papa,” Derek corrects, and lets them go. “Kids, dinner. Now. Peter, you too.”

“Dad’s got a shift,” Stiles says. “He’ll be a bit late, but put a setting for him.”

The Argents are shepherded into the room by Petey, who’s talking at a hundred miles an hour. Derek sets a hand on her shoulder.

“My apologies for my previous greeting,” he says gruffly. “Stiles says I’m emotionally constipated.”

Mike Argent chuckles. “It’s alright. Kate was a monster.”

Derek scowls. “Yes.”

“That’s not talk for now,” Stiles says lightly. “Kids, chairs. Derek, Peter, food. Argents, we’ve added seats for you, with an attachable high chair for Allison.”

There’s a scramble while everyone does as Stiles says. When the food is on the table, everyone waits for Derek and Stiles to give the okay.

“Introductions,” Derek says, gesturing at Peter.

“My name is Peter,” the wolf drawls, leaning on the table. “I’m Derek’s second.”

“Derek, the alpha.”

“Stiles the mage,” Stiles says, grinning as Derek lays a hand on his arm.

“I’m Cora. I’m Derek’s sister, not kid.”

“Miriam.”

“I’m Liam and Derek’s my brother too.”

“My name is Petey and I think you already know me but I promise I’m not as crazy as I seem I just -”

“Petey has a little trouble focusing when she doesn’t do enough magic,” Stiles says.

“And Babi won’t let me pour my magic into the runes that line the boundaries of our property because he says I don’t have enough control yet,” Petey says. “That’s how he controls his -”

“I’m Jackson,” the blonde-headed little boy says.

“Hey! I was ‘sposed to go before Jackson! I’m Erica.”

“Isaac.”

“Boyd.”

“I’m Scott, and I’m four.” He holds up four fingers.

“And this is Ida,” Derek says. “She’s a wolf, but she doesn’t talk yet.”

“How old is she?” Mike asks.

“Nearly two,” Stiles says. “Kids, this is Lydia, Allison, and Mr. and Mrs. Argent.”

“Call us Lauren and Mike,” Lauren says. “So nice to meet all of you.”

You could hear a pin drop.

“They’re Argents.”

“Toldja,” Isaac says, and then reddens and looks down.

“I said so too!” Petey crosses her arms.

“Yeah, but Petey’s full of shit,” Liam says. “I hoped Derek wouldn’t be so stupid.”

“Liam! Language,” Derek says. “These are not the bad Argents.”

“I don’t care which Argents they are,” Liam says, getting up. “I’m not eating with the people who killed Mom and Dad and Billy and Jess and Laura and -”

Stiles gets up and folds Liam into his arms. “I’ll be back,” he says before bringing Liam up the stairs. “Buddy, can you eat with them?”

Liam shakes his head, giving Stiles a dirty look. “They’re the reason my parents are dead.”

“It’s not them, Liam.”

Liam looks at him with eyes too haunted and lifts his shirt to show the burn scars up his side. “I can’t, Stiles. I may have just been a baby but -”

Stiles sighs and kisses his head. “Do you want me or Der to eat with you?”

He shakes his head. “Can I go to the river?”

“Not by yourself, not when it’s dark.”

“I’ll take him, Stiles,” Cora offers, coming out of the stairway. “Wanna go with me, Liam?”

“I guess.” He takes her hand. “Thanks, Stiles.”

“Of course,” Stiles says, frowning after the kid. He follows them down the stairs and goes into the dining room again, smiling tightly. “Liam’s going to go to the river with Cora.”

Derek gestures for him to sit with just a small tilt of his head. “Go at the food, kids,” he says as soon as Stiles is sitting. The Argents wait while all the other kids get food, and then they get food.

“Lauren says you’re looking to build your coven.” Mike takes a bite of potato.

“Perhaps,” Stiles says. “It’s a long process.”

“Lydia’s a smart kid,” Mike says. “Take her even if you don’t take me.”

“Why does Petey have orange insides like you, Stiles? And my dad?” Lydia asks, wiping her mouth on her napkin. “I have green insides. Why doesn’t she have green insides?”

Petey freezes and starts looking at Stiles with a pleading look. Stiles hadn’t expected Lydia to be able to see that.

“It’s complicated,” Stiles says.

“Petey was a boy,” Jackson announces.

“No I wasn’t, you -”

“Oh. She’s transgender.” Lydia shrugs and goes back to her food. “‘Kay.”

Derek watches with a firm hand over Stiles’s leg, keeping him there. “Why did you move here?” he asks.

“To get away from Gerard,” Mike says. “I’ve never been a hunter, Derek, but he was getting too crazy even for me.”

Derek tenses but doesn’t move. “Lydia, whose class are you in at school?”

“Mine and Jackson’s,” Erica says. “Two-Kaufman.”

“I like science best,” Lydia says.

“We think she’ll take to making potions,” Mike says. “We got her a chemistry set in first grade and she loved it.”

“What training do you have?” Stiles asks. “The training process is lengthy.”

“Just a few months’ training,” Mike says. “Gerard killed my last coven when he found out I was training.”

Stiles is silent for a moment, and then he and Petey begin to murmur a spell (more of a prayer to protect the dead) to the Nemeton in this area. When they finish, they go back to eating like it’s nothing.

“Who’s on cleanup tonight?” Stiles asks.

“Liam and Jackson,” Miriam says. “I’m on tomorrow with Isaac and Boyd.”

“Alright. Der, you wanna have Cora bring Liam back in?” Stiles asks.

Derek nods once and goes onto the porch, letting out a howl for Cora. “She’s coming.”

“Mike, Lydia, would you like to come see our potions lab and my study?” Stiles asks. “Petey, c’mere.”

“Why does Lydia get to go up there?” Jackson complains.

“Lydia’s a witch,” Stiles says. “Let’s go.” He leads the way up the stairs.

Mike’s eyes widen when he sees the neatly labeled jars and herbs and cabinets and boxes of books. “Wow.”

“It’s disorganized,” Lydia says, wrinkling her nose.

“Everything is labeled!”

“Yeah, and it’s everywhere,” she says. “Daddy, can I organize it?”

“This is Stiles’s room, Lydia,” Mike says.

Lydia turns to Stiles, pout already breaking Stiles’s heart. “I’ll tell you what, Lyds,” he says, “if you take the oaths, and become one of the coven successfully, you can organize whatever you want, as long as we can find everything.”

She grins. “Cool. What do I have to do?”

“Well, first we have to train you to be able to do the magic to take the oath. It doesn’t take too long, but it’ll be hard work. You’ll be tired a lot, especially because the ADD gene seems to have skipped you.”

She stares at him. “Does Petey have it? And you?”

He nods slowly. “Your dad, too, I think.”

She hums. “That’s alright. Sometimes I see ghosts.”

Stiles swallows. “That’s…special.” He shakes his head. “Mike, do you have the training to join the coven tonight?”

He nods slowly. “Shouldn’t I join with Lydia?”

“Nah,” Stiles says. “If you’re serious about this, we can go set up now and do it quickly. Lyds can join you in a week or so, if she comes here after school and practices.”

Mike shrugs. “Aren’t you worried we’re out to get you?”

Stiles laughs. “Petey’s an empth. She’d know.”

Petey nods. “You’re nervous and you wanna join the coven,” she says.

Mike shrugs. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Stiles claps his hands together and says, “Yes, let’s.” Then he laughs.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles falls over onto Derek. “Oof!” he complains, arms coming up to bracket Stiles’s waist. “You okay?”

“Yes, but training both Mike and Lydia is exhausting,” Stiles says, nuzzling at Derek’s neck. “And Lydia…Mike couldn’t see what I do.”

“What do you mean?” Derek says cautiously.

Stiles snaps his fingers, and the magical sound barriers go up. “Lydia has a lot of power, but it’s…sort of dark. I mean, unless Lydia isn’t taught to use it and somehow goes completely evil, it’s not dangerous, but her magic is… Derek, she could be taught to raise the dead.” He shivers. “It’s dark magic, Derek. It’s not like mine or Petey’s or even Mike’s. He’s mostly only good for protection charms, anyway.”

Derek frowns, eyebrows creasing. “Can you train her?”

“Of course, but…she’ll need everyone teaching her right from wrong and natural from unnatural. And, well, don’t tell anyone about the death stuff…as much as I love Peter, I know if he knew he’d try to get her to raise his mate.”

“Why couldn’t she?” Derek asks quietly, voice twisting.

“Raising the dead is not a good idea,” Stiles says. “Especially not with the type of power Lydia has. But she’ll be extremely useful with ghosts and the undead.”

Derek nods slowly. “Okay.”

Stiles kisses his cheek and relaxes back onto his chest. “I’m sorry she can’t bring your family back,” he murmurs.

Derek mumbles something, but Stiles is already mostly asleep.

//

“Alright, Lyds, I want you to try to make a ball of energy in your hands,” Stiles says. “I want you to hold your hands out and look inside yourself for the spark deep, deep inside. Mine is a silvery green, Petey’s is peachy-orange, and your dad’s is purplish. Can you see your magic?”

She nods. “Mine is kinda greyish.”

Stiles swallows. “That’s alright. Can you try forcing it into a ball into your hands?”

She nods and obeys, and a greyish orb appears in her hands. “Hey! I did it.”

“What does it mean that her magic’s grey?” Mike says as the orb fades.

“It’s time we had a talk,” Stile says, standing and wiping his palms in his jeans. “Petey, go somewhere else.”

“No! I’m part of the coven too.”

Stile sighs. “Alright, but not a word of this to anyone else, all right, baby girl?” He throws up soundproofing.

“It’s that serious?” Petey asks, eyes wide. “Babi, you never use that spell.”

Stiles shifts. “No, I use it occasionally.” Then he nods. “Lydia, your magic, is very, very special.”

“In a good way?” she asks. “Am I powerful like you and Petey?”

Stiles swallows. “Yes, but not like Petey and me. If you’re not trained right, Lydia, your magic could be very, very dangerous.”

“Can’t Petey’s and yours, too?” Lydia frowns. “Stiles, I don’t understand. Just tell me.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Lydia, it is very, very important that you learn right from wrong and natural from unnatural, because your magic is death magic.”

Lydia frowns. “So I can control the dead?”

“No, more like you can control ghosts,” Stiles says. “Your magic will be very useful, as you will be quite good at healing potions, but you must understand that you can never raise the dead.”

“Why not?”

“Well, do you know what happens when people die?” Stiles asks, already knowing she’ll have memorized what it says in a biology textbook or something.

“Well, first, your heart stops working, so blood stops flowing, so there’s no oxygen going to your cells, so there’s no ATP being made, so rigor mortis sets in after at most twelve hours. Then a few days after rigor mortis, your body goes loose again because the muscles have started to degrade. Then -”

“Lydia, I was just wondering if you know about decomposition, particularly in the brain,” Stiles says, amusement in his voice.

“Oh. Yes, I was getting to that.” She bites her lip. “Why?”

“Because once someone dies, if they’re not resuscitated by doctors or by a mage quickly, they should stay dead. Because if you raise the long-dead, it’s not a miracle - it’s a travesty. They aren’t who they were.” Stiles puts a hand on her shoulder. “Because they can be dangerous. And anyone that tells you otherwise is lying to you.”

She nods. “I understand.”

Stiles smiles. “Good. Petey, why don’t you and Lyds work on some more wolfsbane ointment? Pack recipe, this time.”

Petey nods and starts gathering the ingredients, explaining them to Lydia in low tones.

Stiles turns to Mike. “It would be easier if you let her homeschool.”

Mike gives him a dubious look. “But her education -”

“I went to Stanford,” Stiles says. “Graduated when I was twenty. I have degrees in education, classical languages, and chemistry.”

Mike’s mouth snaps shut. “Alright. I think she should finish the year out, especially because she just got here to begin with, but next year, she’s all yours.”

Stiles nods. “Even without ADD, it will be better for her to use her magic often. You, too. In fact…” Stiles hands him an old book. “This is a book of protection charm and hexes. I expect you to learn and make five per day.”

“I have a job.” Mike takes the book, not expecting its weight.

“I suggest you quit. The online home remedies company, as well as the supernatural one it fronts for, will support you and your family, especially since now that you’ll be here during the days, Allison can be taken care of by Derek, Dad, and Peter when she and Scott get home from school and we’re still training, and so Lauren can get a job if she likes.”

Mike raises his eyebrows. “Have you thought about this a lot?”

Stiles waves a hand. “Once I figured out your magic types, Derek and I talked through ideas and options. I’m a magical planner. You have to be, with so many kids.” He waves at the desktop phone. “Call your job up and tell them you’re putting in your two weeks.” He taps his chin. “Oh, and Derek and I will make an account for you off of the pack one for your bills and such. The pack all pours money into the same account and draws from it as well, but unless you really become pack, we can’t have you drawing from that, but I can direct the sales from your stuff into an account, along with some other funds…” Stiles stares off into space.

“Stiles?” Mike asks.

“He’s doing math, let him be,” Petey calls.

//

“Parent teacher conferences tonight!” Stiles yells at Derek, who’s driving the kids to school today (because they all missed the bus because Petey spilled the milk all over everyone this morning when Jackson bet she couldn’t).

“See you later!” he yells back.

Then Stiles turns back around to face Petey, who’s sitting on the couch and staring at the ground. “Go clean it up,” he says. “Go on. I’m going to go take a shower, and then we’ll start your schoolwork.”

“I’m not in trouble?” she says, perking up.

Stiles raises an eyebrow. “I never said that. You’ll lose a privilege.” He grimaces as he feels the milk going sticky in his hair. “Make sure to use your magic to get the milk out, not just off,” he adds. “Otherwise it will rot and be all the wolves can smell.”

She sighs and walks into the dining room. “I’m sorry, Babi.”

“I know, Petey, but you can’t always just rise to Jackson’s baits,” he says. “Your brother likes to get a reaction out of people.”

“Will he lose a privilege too?”

Stiles nods. “Papa isn’t going to let him run on the full moon tomorrow.”

Petey’s eyes widen. “Just for this?”

“No, remember how we gave him a warning last week?”

Petey nods. “‘Kay. Sorry, Babi.” Then she goes into the dining room and Stiles upstairs to shower.

Just as Stiles is wrapping a towel around his waist, she comes into the bathroom unannounced. “Mike’s here,” she says. “I told him you were in the shower.”

Stiles nods. “Are you finished with the milk mess?” he asks, beginning to shave.

“Yes, Babi. Can I bring Mike up to the office?” she asks.

“Yep,” he says, splashing water on his face. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. Now go.” He shoos her out and goes into his room. Derek is back, stripping into the hamper. He didn’t have time to get the milk off before driving the kids to school. “Hey, Der,” Stiles says, grabbing a white tee shirt and pair of jeans, as well as a green flannel.

“Hey,” Derek says. “Petey clean up?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “How much work do you have today? Mike and Lauren are both busy, so we have Allison in addition to Scott today.”

“Alright,” Derek says. “Peter and Aleksy are watching the kids tonight.”

“I thought Dad was working tonight,” Stiles says, frowning as he puts his clothing on.

“He traded because of conferences,” Derek says. He wrinkles his nose at his shirt. “Could you do a load of all the milky stuff this morning? Otherwise everything is going to smell like shit in a few hours.”

Stiles laughs. “Derek, if you want to have sex -”

Derek reddens, realizing what he said. “I didn’t mean - I mean, yes, but - I didn’t -”

Stiles kisses him and takes the laundry basket. “Still funny, babe.” He gathers all the milky clothing and starts a load in one of the washers downstairs, then heads back upstairs to the workshop. “Hey, Mike. Sorry about the delay. Petey covered everyone in milk this morning at breakfast, and I had to shower and do laundry.”

“Stiles, how old are you?” Mike asks, fingers drumming against the desk.

“Petey, start on your magic exercises for today,” Stiles says, waving a hand to throw a book at her, which she easily catches. “And twenty-five.”

“Twenty-five, married, with ten kids? That’s insane, Stiles,” Mike says. “How do you do it?”

“Derek,” Stiles says simply. “He’s there for me through everything. My dad’s been insanely helpful, too. And Petey was the first foster kid we started taking care of, when I was nineteen. Derek had had Liam and Cora for, what, three years at that point? Yeah. And Derek and I had been dating for two years then. So we were a three-kid household for a bit.”

Mike nods. “Alright.” He pulls out a baggy. “Here’re my charms.”

Stiles pulls them out and lays each out, throwing a spell at each that should make them react to the attack: poison, magic, fire, water, and choking. Each functions and he nods. “Good. Work on the next page while you’re here today, and let me know if you have any questions.”

“Where’s your wood and stylus?” Mike asks.

Stiles waves his arm to throw a cabinet open. “Check in there.”

//

“Alright,” Stiles says. “You guys are lucky it’s Friday. Dad, Peter, an hour’s worth of TV or one movie, but not for Petey or Jackson, and make sure it’s appropriate for Scott; we’re not dealing with nightmares again.” He kisses Boyd’s head and sets him down. “Bye, kids.” Derek hands him his hoodie, blood-red, of course, and takes his hand.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Stiles. We’re only leaving them alone for parent-teacher conferences,” Derek says, amusement obvious.

“Shut up,” Stiles says. “I have to worry. It’s practically coded into my DNA.”

“What’s the schedule?” Derek asks, putting the car into drive.

“Youngest to oldest,” Stiles says. “Not too crazy.”

Derek shrugs. “Alright. Do we have any for Cora?”

“Yep,” Stiles says. “The elementary school’s conferences go from seven until eight thirty, and then we have Cora’s from eight thirty until nine.”

Derek pulls into the elementary school. “Kindergarten it is,” he says.

“Derek, Stiles,” the teacher says, smiling at them and shaking their hands. “Good to see you again.”

“Well, you’ve had almost all of our kids,” says Stiles, grinning. “Good to see you again, Ellie.”

“Well, Boyd does quite well,” she says, pulling out a notebook. “Plays well with others, follows directions, does his schoolwork, never causes trouble.”

“And Isaac?”

“Isaac is very obedient,” she says slowly. “He does his work, but rarely talks to anyone but Boyd. He’s very…skittish.”

“Well, that’s to be expected,” Derek says. “You know of his past.”

She nods slowly. “Yes, but he should try to branch out a little bit. Perhaps you could speak with him, let him know you encourage him making friends besides Boyd?”

Stiles nods. “Of course. Anything else?”

“Isaac sniffs Boyd a lot,” she offers.

Derek chokes back a laugh. “He’s searching for Stiles’s and my scents.”

“Alright,” she says slowly. “Might I suggest sending him to school with a scrap of cloth in his backpack instead?”

Derek nods. “Of course. Anything else, or would it be alright for us to move on to the second grade classroom?”

“No. Thank you for coming in, boys.”

Derek takes Stiles’s hand as they walk towards the second-grade wing. “We’re going to get an earful about Jackson and Erica,” he says.

Stiles laughs. “We always do.”

“He’s going to be a jackass in high school.”

Stiles laughs again. “Derek, we’ve known this since the day we got him.”

Derek shrugs and holds the door for Stiles. “He’s not happy about the full moon thing.”

“He’ll have to be in the cages, yeah?” Stiles asks, stepping through.

Derek nods. Then he holds his hand out to Mr. Kaufman. “Hello, I’m Derek, and this is my husband, Stiles.”

Stiles smiles and offers his hand as well. “You have Jackson and Erica in your class, yes?”

Mr. Kaufman nods. “Yes. I’m Eli Kaufman. Call me Eli.”

“I’m sorry you got stuck with both of them,” Stiles says, grinning.

Eli leans back, Stiles’s smile catching. He can’t be much older than Stiles; he’s new this year and sticks out like a sore thumb here. “They can be a handful.”

Derek snorts. “They can be devils,” he says. “But if you know how to motivate them, they’re bright.”

“That’s exactly what I was going to tell you,” Eli admits. “Jackson buckles down and listens usually, especially because we now have a competition in the class of who can behave the best, but Erica can get a little rowdy. She also does well with the competition.”

“Alright, good to know,” Derek says. “And their schoolwork?”

“Erica hasn’t been finishing all of her homework,” Eli says. “She mentioned something about a run last month in the moon? I don’t know, but I told her she needed to start finishing it or else I’d tell you, and she hasn’t been finishing it.”

“Sorry,” Stiles says. “It can get a little crazy sometimes with so many kids. We just added two more to the bunch. I’ll try to pop in on the homework room more often and check on her. Has she showed any learning disabilities?”

“Not that I can tell,” he says. “Why?”

“I have ADD, and I know how hard it can be,” Stiles says. “We homeschool one of Erica’s sisters that has ADD, and it could be an option to homeschool Erica if she can’t handle school.”

“No, I think she’s doing fine,” Eli says. “Just the homework. She does her classwork, works well with others - better than Jackson - and seems to enjoy school. I see no cause for worry.”

“And Jackson? Does he do his work?”

“Yes,” Eli says. “Any other questions?”

“No, thank you. Any other pressing needs to share?” Stiles asks.

The teacher shakes his head. “Thank you for coming in.”

“Thanks for your time,” Derek says over his shoulder.

“Liam and then Miriam,” Stiles says.

“Okay. Whose class is Liam in?”

Stiles shudders. “Did you ever have Mrs. MacDuff?”

Derek shakes his head slowly. “Who’s she?”

“The crazy-strict fourth grade teacher,” Stiles says.

“Oh. Did you have her?”

“Yeah. She was the one that wouldn’t let my class do any art. One time, I turned in a worksheet that I’d doodled on, and she failed it.”

“Jesus,” Derek breathes. “Sounds intense.”

“Yep.” Stiles opens the door for Derek this time. “Hello, Mrs. MacDuff.”

“This is a _parent_ -teacher conference, Świętosław,” she says, eyebrow raised.

Stiles winces. “Mrs. MacDuff, that’s not how you pronounce my name,” he says, “and regardless, I’ve gone by Stiles since the third grade. And also, I share guardianship of Liam with Derek.”

She frowns. “Mr. Hale.”

“Stiles and I filed for their parental rights when he turned twenty,” Derek says sweetly. “Stiles has parental rights. But I’m very glad you’ll let him be here.” He clamps a hand down on Stiles’s thigh where the teacher can’t see.

She humphs. “If you say so. Liam Hale…quiet, does his work, follows directions.”

“This all sounds good,” Derek says, still flashing that uber-charming smile of his.

“He’s a tad too creative and wild for my tastes,” she says, wrinkling her nose. She leans in as if divulging a secret to Derek. “I say you have to trample the creativity when they’re young, or else they turn out with problems like that one.” She jerks her head towards Stiles.

“I understand my husband may have been a bit of a troublemaker in elementary school,” Derek says passively, ignoring her snort at “husband,” “but now Stiles puts all of his energy into the company he started online that supports our family as well as helping me to run our family. If Liam has a quarter the creativity and drive that Stiles has, I’m sure he’ll be a very successful young man.”

She snorts again. “If you say so. I have no disciplinary nor grading complaints. You’re free to go.”

Derek smiles and stands, keeping a hand on Stiles’s shoulder as he leads him out. “Well, Świętosław,” he says, “I’m glad that’s over.” He looks Stiles up and down. “And I didn’t let you at her because she’d love an excuse to hate Liam, and I’m not giving her that.”

Stiles sighs. “Fifth grade classrooms next. Oh joy.”

Derek takes him in his arms and kisses him. “How about we test out that new soundproofing-locking-sleeping spell you’ve been wanting to try tonight?”

Stiles perks up at that. “Really?”

“Yeah, we haven’t had sex in…what a week? That’s a while for us.” Derek kisses him. “But we have to finish the conferences first.”

“Ugh,” Stiles says, grinning. “You wanna turn on the charm again here?”

“Who’s his teacher?”

Stiles grins. “A year older than me. One of Danny’s friends. _Definitely_ into guys.”

Derek swallows. “Stiles,” he whines.

Stiles grins and opens the door. “Good luck, babe.” He pinches Derek’s ass as he walks through the door, making Derek give him an Alpha Glare, even though it no longer works on him.

“Hello, Mr. Jameson,” Stiles says as they sit. “My name is Stiles.”

“And I’m his husband, Derek,” Derek says, smiling and offering a hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking their hands. “Please, call me Shaun.”

Derek flashes his charming smile. “Of course. You have Miriam in your class.”

“Yes, I do,” he says, smiling back. “You two look young,” he says haltingly.

Stiles chuckles. “We adopted Miriam when she was nine,” he says.

“Ah,” the teacher says. “So Miriam…as you can see, she likes to knit.”

Stiles and Derek look around. “Wow,” Derek says.

The desks each have a letter made of yarn on them, as well as various pouches around the room and a coffee cup cozy and blanket for the teacher.

“Yeah,” Shaun says, running a hand over his hair. “Yes. Um, other than that, I have no complaints. I’d like if she occasionally made more of an effort to speak up in class, but still, she’s doing well.”

Derek nods and smiles. “We didn’t realize the knitting was so severe.”

“I told her she had to slow down,” Stiles says. “Maybe we can try to get her to contribute to the family company instead of, um, bringing her stuff here.”

“Oh, and what is the company?”

Stiles grins and pulls up the webpage on his phone. “This is the website for it,” Stiles says, grinning. “Derek handles the website and the finances and taxes and such, and our daughter Petey, our friend Mike, and I make the goods on it.”

“What sort of things do you sell?”

Derek goes into a more technical position on the things they sell, flirting slightly, while Stiles checks if the teacher is human.

“What _are_ you?” Stiles ask, frowning.

“Well that’s rude,” the teacher says.

Derek coughs. “Stiles can’t control his mouth sometimes.” He offers a hand. “Let me re-introduce myself: I am Alpha Hale, and Beacon Hills is my territory. Stiles is a mage, leader of the Beacon Hills coven. Our website offers important potions and charms for the peaceful household supernatural creature. We sell mostly to packs like our own.”

Shaun leans back in his seat. “I am no danger. I am one of the fae, but I do not live with my kind, not at the moment.”

Stiles winces. “I’m sorry. I was trying to read you, but I think you have some shields up, and I was having trouble reading you. Then I got frustrated.”

“It’s alright. But can I have the URL of the special site?” he asks, sliding a pad of paper. “I have a charm to appear human, but I’m always on the market for more protective charms.”

Stiles writes it down and slides it across. “We’ve only just begun to sell the protective charms, so there may be a waiting list.”

“Thank you,” he says. “By the way, if you so choose, I believe Danny is a spark.”

Derek and Stiles stand. “I’ll keep it under consideration,” Stiles promises. “Thanks for your time.”

When they’re in the hallway, Derek frowns. “Cora is about to call you.”

Stiles pulls out his phone and answers almost immediately. “Cora? Is everything okay?”

“Isaac’s a little upset,” she says. “He doesn’t want to go to bed without you here. I told him I’d call you so you could say goodnight.”

Stiles chuckles. “Alright, well, give him the phone, then.” They get into the car, and Derek starts the short drive to the high school. “Hey, buddy.”

“Hi, Babi,” Isaac says softly.

“Why are you so worried? Papa and I are just meeting all of your teachers to check up on you guys. We’ll be back home by nine thirty. What did you do tonight?”

“We watched part of _Return of the Jedi_ ,” Isaac mumbles, and Stiles can tell he’s getting tired.

“Oh? Did you like it?” Stiles gets out of the car, letting Derek lead him by a hand.

“Yeah,” Isaac mumbles. “Come home soon, Babi.”

“Of course,” Stiles says softly. There’s a thump, and then phone is picked up by Cora.

“See you later, Stiles,” she whispers.

Stiles pockets his phone and hands Derek a list. “I had her schedule Harris first, so we could get it out of the way.”

Derek laughs. “I remember how much trouble he caused you in high school.”

“You were only just out of high school my freshman year,” Stiles accused.

Derek shrugs. “True, but you complained. A lot.”

Stiles opens the door. “I’ll let you be your charming self,” he mutters.

“It’ll be fine, Stiles,” Derek says, rolling his eyes. “Ew, it smells in here,” he mutters.

Stiles sits on the stool that’s been placed in front of Harris’s desk. “Hello, Mr. Harris.”

“Hello, Stilinski.” He nods to Derek. “Mr. Hale.”

Stiles’s phone starts buzzing. He ignores it as Harris starts speaking about the course.

“And Cora? How is she doing?” Derek asks.

“Well,” Harris admits. “Which is odd, given that she’s being raised by you two.”

“Stiles has a degree in chemistry from Stanford,” Derek says.

Harris sniffs.

Stiles’s phone starts ringing again. He stands. “I have to take this.” He kisses Derek’s head and goes outside. “Cora?”

“Isaac woke up and started crying again. Could you come home? Uncle Peter and your dad can’t get him calm.”

Stiles sighs. “Yeah, I’ll go get the keys from Derek.” He hangs up and goes back into the classroom. “My apologies. Derek, can I have the keys? They need me at home.”

Derek hands them over, kissing Stiles’s cheek. “I can run home,” he says. “No need to come pick me up.”

“Yep. Sorry, Der. Love you.” Stiles offers a hand to Harris. “I’m sorry, sir. Situation at home with one of the newer kids.”

Harris shakes it. “Good luck, Stilinski,” he says quietly.

Stiles drives home faster than he probably should. “Cora?” he says the moment he gets in the house, hanging his jacket on his hook.

She gives him a flat look, gesturing for him to come upstairs. “Your dad’s been trying to get him to calm down for a while,” she says, wincing at a yell and crash that come from the second floor. Stiles starts up the stairs, only to have Isaac jump the second flight of stairs into his arms, knocking him back against the wall.

Stiles’s heart melts for the little boy clinging to him. Peter appears in the doorway, looking murderous. Stiles pats his shoulder as he walks by.

“Who did this to him?” Peter asks.

“The Lahey pack.”

“Derek and I will be having words about him leaving that bastard of an alpha alive,” Peter says, cracking his knuckles.

Stiles bites his lip. “Believe me, I’d love to hurt him, but Derek has a treaty with them,” he murmurs. “And I’ve got to get Isaac to bed.”

As Stiles goes into the boys’ room, his father goes out, passing a hand over his hair. “I’m proud of you, Stiles.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: Before, I said that Derek got custody of Liam and Cora when he was dating Stiles, but I changed it to be a little earlier....just read that section of the previous chapter if you're confused. If you've read the updated version, don't worry! You're up to date. Thanks a ton for all the hits!

Derek successfully avoids talking to Peter about why he left Lahey alive for nearly two weeks (mostly by having Stiles distract Peter with lots of housework when he wasn’t working). Stiles has had him chopping wood for the winter, helping to harvest the vegetables the pack grows, and doing repairs on the house, and those were just the outside chores.  
  
“Thanks, Peter!” Stiles calls as he brings the last of the squash in.  
  
Peter deposits it in the root cellar. “Stiles, I love you, but this has to end. Derek can’t hide behind your chores forever.”  
  
Stiles flashes him a grin. “Even if I’m helping Der out, I really did need all the stuff you did to be done.”  
  
Peter rolls his eyes and pulls Stiles into a hug, scenting the boy. “I’m glad I’m a good servant,” he mutters. “Where’s Derek?”  
  
“He really is busy at the moment,” Stiles says, shrugging. “If you want, I can throw the soundproofing spell up after dinner for a chat between the adults and Cora. Also, speaking of dinner, you’re on cooking tonight.”  
  
Peter nods and claps his shoulder. “I’ll shower and head to the kitchen. What’s on the meal plan for tonight?”  
  
“Spaghetti with meat sauce and a quick salad,” Stiles says. “You can use the last of last year’s stewed tomatoes - they’re all the way to the right in the pantry - and the ground beef in the bottom of the freezer. Miriam and Boyd are on cooking tonight.”  
  
Peter nods slowly. “Thanks, Stiles,” he says. “You do a lot for this family.” He hugs Stiles one last time and turns to leave. “You made this family.”  
  
Stiles laughs. “Better than you and Derek hating each other and yourselves.”  
  
“True.” Peter’s natural smirk appears again. “Don’t get too cocky, human.”  
  
“Pup.” Stiles grins, and Peter leaves, also smiling.  
  
//  
  
“Why, Derek?”  
  
“The treaty,” Derek says slowly, turning the ring on his finger.  
  
“I’m going to need more than that, because you’ve changed treaties before,” Peter says, fur coming in. “That little boy is terrified. That monster _hurt_ him.”  
  
Derek grabs the back of Stiles’s neck and pulls him into his chest. He slouches in a way the wolf doesn’t usually, all weariness. “Peter, what do you know about the Lahey pack?”  
  
“Not much,” Peter admits. “Talia hated them. Honestly, since Laura was to be the alpha, I never much worried about it.”  
  
Derek sighs. “Stiles, when you look at the pack ties, what do you see?”  
  
“Can’t you see them?” Stiles asks, frowning.  
  
“Please.”  
  
Stiles shrugs and closes his eyes. “They’re a bunch of colors and there’s lots of them and they’re all bright and thick. They look…glow-y and alive.”  
  
“What would few, thin, grey ties mean?” Derek asks.  
  
“It could mean a few things,” Stiles asks. “I need more information.”  
  
“Just tell us, Derek,” Cora says.  
  
“Lahey only turns rotten people,” Derek says. “People like him. The pack doesn’t bond, and no one questions him. He doesn’t have a second.”  
  
Peter steps back. “The entire pack is like that monster?”  
  
Derek shrugs. “I’m sure there are a few okay people.”  
  
“Fuck,” Peter says, pacing. “What does the treaty say?”  
  
“No territory-stealing, no attacks,” Derek says.  
  
“What if someone else attacks the pack?” Cora says. “Are you required to come to their aid?”  
  
Derek frowns. “I don’t think so.”  
  
“What if you were in an allyship with the people that attacked the Lahey pack, and allyship that required you to fight with them?” Peter says, already scheming.  
  
“That would be breaking our treaty, I think, but I could probably get away with it,” Derek says. “But the Lahey pack is a pack of twenty-five full-grown wolves.”  
  
“We have three,” Cora says. “And we have Stiles. We have four fighters to offer. We just need a pack with big enough numbers to join us.”  
  
“Mike could make protection charms,” Stiles muses. “And if we bade our time, I could invite Danny to the coven as Shaun suggested.”  
  
Derek has been silent, rubbing at his stubble. “Cora, get me a map of northern California,” he says. When she hands him one, he takes a crayon from their bedside table and circles part of it. “That’s the Lahey territory.” He takes other crayons and writes names around. “Surrounding their territory is our territory, Iwakuma territory, Martinez territory, Reed territory, fae territory, Charlton territory, Davis territory, and the territory of Sukkalgir’s clan.”  
  
The vampires and werewolves have held quite the symbiotic relationship since Derek and Stiles got their act together. The Hale pack offers the land for animal hunting as well as discounted items from the store, the vampires acquire some of the odder ingredients Stiles needs at little to no cost, and both get protection from others of their own kind: vampires won’t touch the Hale pack, and most wolves will leave the vampires led by Sukkalgir once they learn there’s a treaty in place.  
  
“Are the vampires an option?” Cora asks.  
  
Stiles wrinkles his nose. “I would rather avoid it if I can. The treaty is too beneficial for both parties for me to want harm to come to them, even if they offered help. Derek, which packs do we have good relationships with?”  
  
Derek frowns. “Well, there are two answers to that question. Our best treaties are with the Iwakumas and and Davises. However, the Reed pack is quickly growing with not enough territory to support such a large pack. They’ll agree to most anything if we offer land. We have much more land than the Laheys, even though we’re a smaller pack, because of my parents’ legacy - most wolves won’t touch this territory with a ten-kilometer pole. However, they’ll most likely take Lahey land.”  
  
“What do you think, then?”  
  
“The Iwakumas are not likely to help us,” Peter says. “I’ve been friends with their alpha for many years. She is many things, but hasty she is not. Even if there are more benefits than costs, she will take the happiness and peace her pack has now over the opportunity for more land and power.”  
  
“And the Davises?”  
  
“They might,” Derek says. “I still sort of think the Reed pack is our best bet. Perhaps if we wrote and requested to run with them this full moon, we could form bonds and then a better treaty.”  
  
“They have lots of kids, too, right?” Stiles asks, frowning. He vaguely remembering being there to make the first treaty.  
  
“Yeah,” Derek says. “Stiles, you want to write an email to them?”  
  
“Yeah, sure, babe,” Stiles says, kissing Derek once and retrieving his laptop. He pulls up one of the templates for emissary letters that he and Derek made years ago. He makes some tweaks, adds what it is that they want, and sends it off.  
  
“We’re set,” Stiles says, setting the laptop aside and laying back on the bed.  
  
Derek smiles and leans over Stiles, kissing him as he frames Stiles’s head with his arms and shifts his weight to be over Stiles on the bed.  
  
The door closes, and they break apart for a moment. Peter and Cora have left. Stiles pulls Derek back over him.  
  
//  
  
“Here’s the response,” Stiles says, pushing his phone over the table. He takes a bite of cereal.  
  
“Wow, so fast,” Derek deadpans. “Only took them a week to answer.”  
  
Stiles laughs. “They’ve said they would love to have us.”  
  
“Do they suspect anything?” Derek asks.  
  
Stiles shrugs. “How would I know?”  
  
Derek kisses him and stands. “You’re all-knowing, aren’t you?”  
  
Petey plops down next to Stiles. “Babi, can we walk around outside today to look at the wards?”  
  
Stiles considers. They haven’t done a wards walk in a few weeks. “Yeah, let’s do it. Der, you wanna come?”  
  
“Sure, babe,” Derek says. “Petes, grab a jacket and a hat. It’s cold.” Then he hands Stiles a jacket and pulls on his own leather jacket.  
  
“Papa, doesn’t Babi need a hat?” Petey asks, pulling on sneakers.  
  
“I’ll keep Babi warm,” Derek replies seriously.  
  
Stiles rolls his eyes and takes Derek’s hand. “Papa is very possessive of his mate,” he tells Petey.  
  
“Oh. Alright. Let’s go.”  
  
Stiles opens the door and ushers the other two out of the house, taping a note to the door for if Mike comes over.  
  
As soon as they’re at the border of the wards, Derek picks Stiles up and kisses him.  
  
“Ew, Babi,” Petey says.  
  
Derek grins, but he doesn’t put Stiles down. “Well, Babi and Papa never have -”  
  
“Derek, think carefully before you finish that sentence,” Stiles warns.  
  
“Enough time,” Derek says. “I barely get to see Babi.”  
  
Stiles rolls his eyes and clutches Derek’s shoulders tightly. “Petey, what do you feel?” he asks.  
  
Petey closes her eyes. “Um…magic?”  
  
Stiles rolls his eyes and taps on Derek’s arm. He kneels at the boundary and closes his eyes, pressing his hand to the earth. “Give me your hand.” Two hands are offered, one little, and one big and far too warm for this weather. He takes Petey’s first, showing her how the pack magic flows through Stiles and the boundary and back to the pack and back to Stiles. It’s a never-ending loop that Stiles has learned to hold constantly. It no longer takes a large portion of his magic.  
  
Stiles takes Derek’s hand and shows him the same thing. In Derek’s mind, the wolf wants to pin Stiles down and show him exactly what Derek thinks of his mate, but the human holds the wolf instincts back because of Petey. Stiles loves when their magics mingle.  
  
“How do I do it, Babi?” Petey asks, breaking the connection.  
  
“Well, it will be harder for you,” Stiles says, sitting down. “My magic works extremely well with the pack magic - the magic of the earth. Your magic will work, too, but - well, Petey, when you work magic, how do you make it work?”  
  
“It’s like opening doors,” she says immediately, sitting across from him. “When I read feelings especially.”  
  
Stiles nods slowly. He feels Derek sit behind him and plaster himself to the mage. “For me, it’s a flow, like a river, or a wind. That’s the same way it works with pack magic. And that’s how these boundaries work, okay? Since I created them using my magic and pack magic and earth magic, the magic flows. You have to learn to make you magic flow. Can you try to make an air protection-rune, but using my kind of magic?”  
  
Petey closes her eyes and frowns at her hands. “I can’t do it.”  
  
“Try a little harder,” Stiles says, amusement in his voice. Derek slips a hand under Stiles’s shirt. “ _Der_.”  
  
“You’re cold,” Derek says innocently.  
  
“Babi!” Petey says. “Look, there it is.” In her hands is a glowing rune, small, weak, and rather insignificant, but any added layer of protection is good in Stiles’s eyes.  
  
“Good job,” he says, taking the rune from her hands and walking it to the border, releasing it into the other runes. It glows, once, and Petey gasps.  
  
“Babi, I can…feel it. At the corner of my magic. Will it suck my magic?”  
  
Derek coughs quietly into Stiles’s back, trying to hide the chuckles. Stiles sends a spark, just enough electricity for him to know it’s a reprimand. “No. It will only use your magic when it’s active, and the run you made will only work defensively, not proactively.”  
  
“Oh. Okay.” She gives him her puppy-dog eyes, which don’t work on him anymore since they amassed ten kids, and says, “Can I try another one?”  
  
“Nope,” Stiles says, standing. “We’re heading back in, and you’re going to drink some water and eat some graham crackers with peanut butter, and then we’re going to do some schoolwork. You can do math with Papa today, if he says it’s okay.”  
  
She gives Derek the puppy eyes, and he can’t resist as well as Stiles can, and Derek caves. “Sure, Petes, you can do math with me today.” Derek kisses Stiles, slipping a hand down to Stiles’s ass because he can and Petey can’t see from in front of them. He squeezes, just once, and says, “I have to head inside early and get a start on today’s work if Petey’s going to be joining me today for math class.”  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Stiles says, kissing Derek once more. “Love you.”  
  
Derek smiles. “You, too, lovely mage.”  
  
“Babi, I’m hungry,” Petey says.  
  
Stiles chuckles and lets Derek go. “Alright, let’s go, witchlet.” He offers a hand and they walk back towards the house. Derek is long gone.  
  
“Babi?”  
  
“Yes, Petey?” Stiles runs his free hand through her hair, which just reaches past her shoulders now.  
  
“How can I make my insides green like Lydia’s?” She looks at the ground in front of her, and then at Stiles, and then at the ground again.  
  
“I don’t know,” Stiles says, regretting it instantly when her face crumples for just a second and then mostly clears, even though she still frowns. “Hey, sweetie, even if I don’t know now, I can do some research, okay? And, in worst case scenario, if I can’t find a spell, you and me can make one.”  
  
Petey smiles so widely that Stiles can’t help but smile back. “Thanks, Babi.”  
  
//  
  
“I’m going to send a quick email to the Reed pack and let them know who we’ll be bringing and what accommodations we’ll need,” Stiles says, grabbing his laptop from Derek’s office. “Can you start lunch?”  
  
Derek looks up from a stack of papers. “Huh?”  
  
Stiles chuckles and sits in his lap. “I said,” he murmurs, kissing Derek’s neck, “I was going to send an email to the Reed pack and tell them what we’ll need. Then I asked if you could start lunch with Petey. Mike will be getting here soon with Scott and Allison.”  
  
Derek’s hands find his waist. “Oh.”  
  
“We had sex two days ago, Derek,” Stiles says, biting Derek’s lower lip lightly.  
  
“I’m a wolf and you’re barely twenty-five,” Derek says. “We could go at it a few times a day and still have energy.”  
  
“You know, I always thought I’d be the sex-crazed one in this relationship,” Stiles says, running a hand through Derek’s hair and settling into his lap more thoroughly. “Like, I talked all the time and was the one that used to start all the sexy times, but you’re as crazy for it as me. And even since -”  
  
“Stiles,” Derek interrupts.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Shut up.” He kisses Stiles.  
  
//  
  
Stiles lines the kids up in four lines: two kids for each adult and Cora with Ida. “Just make sure they have everything they’ll need for three or four days away, and not too much other stuff for them to carry their bags,” Stiles said earlier.  
  
Now he holds Scott’s hand and Isaac’s hand and leads them up the stairs to show him their bags, packed this morning before school. Isaac has packed well: two extra pairs of jeans, four tee shirts, four pairs of underwear and socks, and a notebook and markers. He wears a light jacket. Scott, not so much. Stiles packs similar things to what Isaac packed and puts him in a lined rain jacket. Then he leads the two boys, along with their bags, back down to the foyer. This morning, after the kids left for school, he and Derek space-bagged and packed all the kids’ pillows, knowing none of them would sleep without he and Derek’s scents.  
  
“Everyone ready?” Stiles asks. “Yep, we have all fourteen. Alright, well, vans are like this: Derek and I will have Isaac, Scott, Jackson, Erica, and Petey in the grey van, and Dad and Peter will drive Miriam, Liam, Cora, Boyd, and Ida in the black van. And Liam, Cora, and Ida will be right behind Dad and Peter.”  
  
“What about us?” Petey asks. “Who gets to sit in front?”  
  
Stiles chews on his lip and looks to Derek, who says, “Whatever Babi decides will go without complaint. Peter, Aleksy, why don’t you take your crew, get the carseats in order, and load up while we figure this out.”  
  
“Sure thing,” the sheriff says, gathering bags.  
  
The kids in Stiles and Derek’s car still look at Stiles expectantly. “On the way there, Jackson will sit behind Papa and Petey behind me, with Isaac in the middle. On the way back, Scott and Erica will be in the front.”  
  
No one groans or complains as Derek shoots them an Alpha Look. Isaac takes Stiles’s hand.  
  
“Where are the carseats for this crew, Der?” Stiles asks.  
  
Derek puts a hand on Stiles’s shoulder and smiles. “Stiles, love of my life, go get your laptop and chargers and toiletries from upstairs before you worry about the kids and their carseats. I’ll have everyone in the car by the time you’re entirely packed up.”  
  
Stiles huffs, rolls his eyes, and then kisses Derek’s cheek. “Thanks, Der.” He takes the stairs two at a time.  
  
True to his word, when Stiles gets to the car with his duffel repacked, Derek has gotten their crew into the van. He gets into the passenger seat and buckles himself in. The kids are quiet, though likely not for long, and Derek pulls out, Peter and Stiles’s dad following.  
  
//  
  
Only Stiles, Peter, and Derek get out of the vans to greet the leaders of the Reed pack. Stiles bows his head and tilts it ever-so-slightly to the side as a respectful greeting to the wolf and then offers a hand. “I am Stiles Stilinski, mage of the Beacon Hills coven and emissary to the Hale pack.”  
  
Derek also offers a hand after Stiles’s hand has been shaken. “And I am Alpha Derek Hale.”  
  
Peter smirks as he offers his hand. “Peter Hale, Derek’s second.”  
  
“It is our pleasure to host members of the Hale pack,” the Reed alpha says. “I am Alpha Kessa Reed.”  
  
“I am her emissary, Michelle Moreno.”  
  
“And I’m her second, Ed Reed.” He glances at the alpha. “And her wife.”  
  
She laughs and lightly hits him. “Now that those damn formalities are over, it’s good to see you again, Stiles.”  
  
Derek takes Stiles’s hand as he says, “And we’re glad to be here. Like, really glad. I think Derek’s vein was nearly popping out of his head like the entire way here. We took the crazy car and gave my dad and Peter the easy car. Plus, Petey was, like, off the walls, because -”  
  
“Alright, Stiles,” Derek says, softly.  
  
Stiles closes his mouth. “I’m a little off the walls, too,” he says. “Thank you for having us, by the way. We wanted to come see the Reed territory.”  
  
“And to discuss the treaty,” she says casually.  
  
“Well, yeah,” Stiles says, giving her a guilty look.  
  
“But that’s talk for later. Dinner will be on in about forty-five minutes, which should give you enough time to settle in to the guest house.” She starts walking. “If your kiddos are okay in the car for a bit longer, we can give you a tour before you move them in.”  
  
“Peter, go supervise our car. Cora and Alesky can handle the other one,” Derek says.  
  
Peter nods and peels off.  
  
Alpha Reed smiles at them and runs a hand through her greying brown bob. She’s probably no older than fifty, but being the alpha of such a large pack must put a toll on her. She has wrinkles on her forehead and at the corners of her eyes and mouth, which is good, probably, because it means she probably smiles a lot. She’s dressed sensibly in jeans, a white tee shirt, and a long-sleeved corduroy shirt.  
  
She leads them away from the main house and driveway a bit to a small house off the side. It’s two stories, but there are maybe only two or three rooms per floor. “It’s aired out every time a pack uses it,” she says. “There’s a pack room and a room for those that don’t want to sleep with the pack - like your father, perhaps, Stiles. There are two full-size bathrooms. The one on the ground floor has two showers. There’s also a small living room/kitchen with a fridge.”  
  
Stiles and Derek peek in the big pack room, which is admittedly perfect for a traveling pack with kids - the big room and sleeping together will help the kids get to sleep.  
  
“Thank you, Kessa,” Derek says, running a hand through his hair. “Where should we meet your pack for dinner?”  
  
“Oh, and blankets are in the closet,” she adds. “And I’ll send a beta over to fetch you when it’s ready. Here’s a key to the guest house.”  
  
“Thanks,” Derek says again, and they all leave the guest house. They walk to the cars.  
  
“Alright, everyone out and in a line,” Stiles orders. Derek stands behind him, arms crossed. “Bags, everyone, and Liam and Miriam, grab the space bagged pillows, please.”  
  
When they’re lined up again, pillows and baby in arms, Derek and Stiles lead the way to the house, Stiles slipping to his dad’s side. “Do you want to sleep in the pack pile? If you don’t, there’s a separate room.”  
  
“What’s the pack pile room like?” the sheriff asks.  
  
“There’s one huge mattress that covers most of the floor and blankets in the closet, and it will basically just be cuddling with kids all night.” Stiles shrugs. “Of course, they’ll mostly be trying to get close to Derek and me, but it’d be good for the pack if you slept in there with us, especially because the more you smell like pack to the Reed pack, the better.”  
  
“I’ll give it a try,” the sheriff decides, hugging his son with one arm.  
  
Stiles smiles at his dad. “You can choose your corner first,” he says.  
  
“Where are we sleeping, Derek?” Cora asks, looking around the first floor of the house. “It’s not very big for ten people.”  
  
“No, we’ll all share the upstairs room.”  
  
“What?” Cora stares at Stiles. “Stiles, Derek is kidding, right?”  
  
“No, they have a pack room. It’s very nice, actually. It’s like great big sleepover!” With every word, he tickle Isaac’s stomach before picking him up.  
  
“Are there at least private bathrooms?”  
  
“There are two bathrooms,” Stiles says, leading the way up the stairs, Isaac comfortable on his hip. “The upstairs one is for people over the age of twelve, and the downstairs one is for the kiddos. There are two showers in the downstairs bathroom.”  
  
Cora nods. “Alright, that sounds fine.”  
  
Stiles opens the door. “Kids, don’t unpack anything - just set your bags wherever you want off the bed. Cora, can you unbuckle Ida from her carrier and check her diaper? Sorry!”  
  
Cora sighs and nods, setting her bag and Ida’s bag down and getting the diaper bag. “Why don’t you make Derek do this stuff? This is your guys’ new kid.”  
  
Stiles pauses his blanket-laying and smiles at her. “Cora, I’m sorry we have to pawn so much off on you, but we are so, so grateful for your help.”  
  
She sighs again. “Alright, I guess.”  
  
//  
  
The kids are all antsy for the run. Even Petey and Stiles can feel the pull of the moon through the pack bonds. Ida and Scott are even up, toddling around and letting out frankly adorable mini-howls when Derek and the older members of the pack do.  
  
When it gets closer to the moon being risen enough, Derek strips off his shirt and hands it to Stiles expectantly. Stiles grins slightly, takes his grubby grey hoodie off, pulls the shirt on, and replaces his jacket. “Happy, alpha-man?”  
  
Derek raises an eyebrow. “Yes.”  
  
Stiles rolls his eyes and shoves at Derek’s shoulder, taking his hand. “How much longer?”  
  
“Only a few more minutes,” Derek says.  
  
“Alpha?” Isaac says.  
  
“Papa,” Stiles supplies.  
  
“Yes, Isaac?” Derek asks, squatting.  
  
“Can I run with Ida?” he asks quietly, twisting his hands together.  
  
“Of course,” Derek says. “But it means you’ll be with the group of humans, if you’re okay with that. She’s too slow to run with the wolves.”  
  
Isaac glances at Stiles and smiles. “Yes.”  
  
Derek ruffles his hair. “Alright.”  
  
The packs move outside of the big house. Isaac holds Ida’s hand and Cora has an arm around Liam, if only for a little while. Scott follows Boyd around. Petey eventually finds Stiles, peppering him with questions that he answers to the best of his ability. Eventually he tells her to go find Miriam.  
  
Derek reappears next to Stiles, rubbing himself on the mage. He opens their bonds, sending a wide variety of thoughts through - honestly, when it’s that time of the month, Derek is the one that seems to have attention deficit disorder - but the two that’re repeated over and over are “mine” and “separate from humans so I can find and scent.”  
  
Stiles raises an eyebrow. _No sex in woods that aren’t ours, Der. You know that._  
  
Derek shrugs and rubs himself on the back of Stiles. “Mine.”  
  
Stiles shakes his head and pulls Derek to the front. “Fine.” _How long in?_  
  
_As soon as you - MINE - can. I’ll find - MINE - you._  
  
Stiles laughs. “Honestly, Der, you’re moon-crazy. Run yourself out a bit.”  
  
_Want to - MINE - hunt and find you - MINE._  
  
“Alright, fine. Strip, wolfman - the packs are getting ready to run.”  
  
Derek drops his pants, continuing to rub himself all over Stiles. “Mine.”  
  
“Go, Derek,” Stiles says, voice still full of amusement.  
  
“Well he’s possessive this moon,” Peter remarks drily.  
  
“I noticed,” Stiles responds, just as dry.  
  
Peter chuckles and begins to take his clothing off. “I know what he wants to do.”  
  
Stiles shrugs. “It’ll be fun.”  
  
“I did it with my mate,” he says, turning around to continue the conversation, even as he walks to join the wolves. “It’s quite the experience. Part of it’s that you’re on different territory. Have fun, Stiles.” With that, he shifts and joins the wolves, who range in size from Boyd’s pup-size to Derek’s huge alpha. Oh, and there’s also the weird size of Jackson’s kanima. Derek picks Boyd up by the scruff of his neck and the wolves take off.  
  
Scott pouts, having been stuck with the humans. Stiles runs a hand through his hair. “Shift, Scott,” he encourages.  
  
“Why can’t I run with Boyd and the others?”  
  
“Scott, you’re four,” Stiles says, scritching Isaac’s neck. “Isaac, Ida, you two can shift, too.”  
  
They shift immediately. Isaac nudges at his sister to go in the right direction as the humans, most weighed down with children, begin to walk. Liam comes over and ruffles Scott’s hair. “Why haven’t you shifted yet, Scotty?”  
  
“I wanna run with the wolves,” Scott says, pouting.  
  
One of the pups from the Reed pack shifts to human and runs over to Scott. She looks to be about his age, with a little black afro and a smile missing her front teeth. “I’m Jade,” she says. “I’m four. Do you wanna run with me and the other four-year-old? It’s my cousin Zia.”  
  
Scott looks to Stiles for permission. “Go, Scott. Have fun. Don’t go far. Stay with Jade and Zia.”  
  
Scott grins and shifts, following Jade to another wolf pup. Isaac and Ida are running around, him nipping at her heels and nuzzling her affectionately. Liam joins Miriam again, and Stiles is free to go, but he doesn’t yet. No, he waits another thirty minutes, for the sole purpose of making Derek wait. Then he lets himself fall to the back of the pack and the slips off in the opposite direction of them. He takes off running once he’s sure the others won’t notice and opens the bond. Derek immediately changes direction, hunting for Stiles’s scent. Stiles hides the images from the bond, going through icy water and mud to confuse Derek. He runs for nearly fifteen minutes before a warm, solid mass hits him from the side and they go tumbling over a ridge, rolling down the hill with Derek surrounding Stiles so he never even touches the dirt.  
  
As soon as they’ve stopped rolling, Derek pins Stiles to the ground, staring into his eyes with glowing red eyes.  
  
“Hi, Der,” Stiles says, grinning. “That was fun.”  
  
Derek only grunts, inhaling Stiles’s scent.  
  
“I don’t think they noticed me leave.”  
  
“They didn’t.” He mouths at Stiles’s neck.  
  
Stiles pushes his head away lightly. “I told you, no sex on Reed territory, especially not in the woods.”  
  
Derek sits back slightly, smirking even as his eyes glow, betraying his feelings. “I could convince you otherwise.”  
  
“Yeah, but you won’t, because you know I’m right.” Stiles leans up and kisses him. It soon turns into a mixture of kissing and talking and looking at the stars and moon.  
  
Then, suddenly, Derek pulls back and cocks his head. “Everyone’s heading in.” He stands and offers Stiles a hand. Stiles takes it, and Derek shifts, pulling Stiles onto his back. Stiles hangs on for dear life as Derek gallops back to the house, bouncing around and laughing wildly. Derek lets him go at the house, shifting back and taking the proffered basketball shorts from Stiles before folding him back into his arms. Stiles is a little cold.  
  
The packs separate, Cora trotting away from three or four wolves. Everyone gathers around Stiles and Derek, and Kessa walks over. “That was beautiful,” she says, panting. “We can discuss what you came here for tomorrow.” Then she splits off, and the rest of the Reed pack, fifty strong, follows her.  
  
Derek and Stiles lead the way back to the house, stopping everyone in the kitchen. “Showers, everyone, but humans first,” Stiles says. “Dad -”  
  
“No, son,” the sheriff says. “You’re the one covering in mud and water. Go clean up and get warm.”  
  
“PUT YOUR DIRTY CLOTHES IN THE TRASH BAGS IN THE KITCHEN!” Stiles yells as Derek carries him up the stairs, as dirty as Stiles is, but in less clothing. “AND PUT PAJAMAS ON!”  
Derek turns the shower on and drops his shorts, giving Stiles a hopeful look. “Please?”  
  
“No, our kids are here,” Stiles mutters, peeling off his layers of wet clothes. “And they all have super smell.”  
  
“They won't know what it means,” Derek comments, stepping in.  
  
“No, Der. I love you, and I wish we could, but no.” Stiles sighs as the stream of hot water hits him. “Jesus, that feels great.”  
  
Derek runs his hands up and down Stiles’s arms, leaving clean streaks in the mud. “Want me to wash you?” Derek offers, picking up the washcloth.  
  
“Sure,” Stiles says.  
  
Derek grins and squirts soap onto the washcloth. “Great.”  
  
Stiles lets him rub down Stiles’s muddy body as he reaches for the shampoo. He rubs it into Derek’s hair as Derek cleans the mud. Derek’s throat rumbles in a growl of approval.  
  
When Stiles and Derek emerge from the bathroom, squeaky clean and with towels wrapped around their waists, Aleksy goes in. Derek takes their clothes downstairs and puts them in the aforementioned trash bag, and Stiles pulls on boxers and one of Derek’s clean tee shirts, also taking out boxers and one of Stiles’s [bigger] shirts for Derek. When Derek returns, he takes the clothes and lets out another rumble of approval.  
  
“We should probably put pants on, too,” Derek says, as though it’s the worst thing that could happen.  
  
Stiles laughs and hands him a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, pulling his own pair on and almost falling over (Derek catches him). “I’m going to go make sure the kids are showering.”  
  
“I can bathe Ida in the sink in the kids’ bathroom,” Derek offers.  
  
“That’d be great, babe,” Stiles says, kissing him and heading down the stairs. The kids all stand near the TV, though they fortunately realize they shouldn’t touch anything while muddy. None of them except Cora wears anything, and she wears only a pair of shorts. Peter watches from the small kitchen, also waiting to touch anything. Stiles leans on a wall near him.  
  
“How was it?”  
  
“Fun,” Stiles admits, grinning. Peter is like a second dad to him, and to Derek he’s his only father, really. “You were right.”  
  
Peter sniffs. “Please. I’m always right.”  
  
Stiles laughs. “How was the run?”  
  
“Great,” Peter says, sighing and tilting his head back. “The air was perfect, and the woods were full of smells, and the pack was together… It could not have been better.”  
  
Stiles grins. “That’s great, Peter.”  
  
“I have dibs on the next shower,” Cora says, bolting up the stairs.  
  
“Dad done with his?” Stiles asks Peter.  
  
“Yeah,” the older wolf says. “I don’t mind waiting a bit, though.”  
  
“Which kids have showered?” Stiles asks.  
  
“Miriam, Liam, Petey, and Jackson,” Peter says. “Erica and Isaac are in there now, and I think your mate is washing the baby. After that, it’s just Boyd.”  
  
“I’ll do Scott in the other sink,” Stiles says, plucking the kid off the floor. “Kids, go put your jammies on. Boyd, wait there. I’m sure Isaac or Erica will be out soon.”  
  
The all go up the stairs, talking about the cartoon they were watching and arguing which TMNT is the best. Stiles shakes his head and clucks as he carries Scott, who squirms, into the bathroom and plops him in the sink, turning the water on. “Don’t move, Scott,” he says as he gets a washcloth and some soap from the cabinet.  
  
“Don’ wan’ a bath,” Scott says, pouting.  
  
“Boyd and Isaac’re going to take a bath,” Stiles points out, getting the washcloth wet and soapy and running it through the mud on Scott’s back.  
  
Scott whines and Derek lets out a low growl. After that, Scott is compliant as can be, letting Stiles cover him in soap, including his hair and parts of his face. Then Stiles gets a cup and begins to rinse. “Close your eyes, bud,” he says, “or else you’re going to have soap in your eyes.”  
  
Isaac slips next to Stiles, clad in his towel, and nuzzles against Stiles. “Can I sleep next to you tonight, Babi?”  
  
“Yes,” Stiles says. “Hang your towel and go put your pajamas on, Isaac.”  
  
“Can _I_ sleep next to you tonight, Babi?” Scott asks, opening his eyes now that Stiles has turned the water off.  
  
“You can sleep next to Isaac,” Stiles says. “Or at Papa’s and my feet.”  
  
“‘Kay,” Scott says, letting Stiles pick him up in a towel. Derek holds a sleeping Ida in his arms, also wrapped in a towel.  
  
“Will you supervise Boyd?” Stiles asks, holding out an arm for Ida.  
  
“Sure,” Derek says. “Erica, hurry up, or you won’t leave any hot water for Boyd.”  
  
Stiles carries the toddlers up the stairs, setting Scott down at the top of the stairs. “Jammies,” he says. “Then you can find your pillow. Cora’s opened them.”  
  
Scott nods and rubs his eyes. “‘Kay, Babi.” He follows Stiles into the room.  
  
The kids are quietly getting changed, all smothering yawns. Stiles smiles to himself. He finds Ida’s bag and puts a fresh diaper on her. Then he puts her in a onesie and sets her near where the sheriff will sleep. If she wants to, she can move closer to the pack in the night. He covers her in a knit blanket and puts her pillow underneath her head. Derek comes in with Boyd and Erica, who yawn and get dressed. Derek takes his and Stiles’s pillow - yes, singular, because Derek likes to wrap Stiles in himself, especially when the moon’s full - and places it in the middle of the room. Isaac puts his right next to theirs. Derek cracks a few windows in the room and puts the baby-proof knob on the door. Then he lays next to Stiles and wraps Stiles up like he’s swaddling the mage with his body. Isaac presses himself as close as he can to Stiles, and Cora curls up next to Derek. Other than that, Stiles doesn’t know and frankly doesn’t care. It’s three in the morning and he’s been up since six am yesterday.  
  
Stiles drifts off to Derek’s even breaths in his ear and steady heartbeat against his back.  
  
//  
  
The first to wake is the sheriff, and it’s not until eleven. He goes down the stairs as quietly as an old man can, and he manages not to wake anyone but Derek (and by extension, Stiles) and Peter. They shift a little bit and go back to sleep, sleeping until nearly one in the afternoon, as is normal on the day after the full moon. The kids still slumber peacefully, but the adults sit around the kitchen table, nursing cups of coffee that the sheriff brewed for them.  
  
“I love coffee,” Stiles mutters, seated on Derek’s lap. He can feel Derek’s chest rumble when he chuckles. “I love the sound of your laugh,” he says groggily.  
  
“The kids will probably be up within two hours,” Peter says. “You should go see if Alpha Reed is ready to talk.”  
  
Derek raises an eyebrow. “You mean we should,” he says, gesturing to the three of them. “You’re my second, Peter.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter says, but his little smile as he sets his cup in the sink means he’s happy they invited him.  
  
“Dad, we’ll see about them sending some food over, or, if they want us to eat there, a messenger to let you and the kids know,” Stiles says, grabbing his jacket off the hook and sliding it on. Derek and Peter both grab their leather jackets, too.  
  
“Sure thing,” the sheriff says, waving his cup of coffee. “I have some more cases I can pore over until the kids get up, anyway.”  
  
The three exit the house and make their way to the bigger Reed house (they constructed another one behind the first that is almost like a dorm, for the teenagers and young adults).  
  
Kessa opens the door, carrying a cup of coffee like Stiles and wearing flannel pajama pants like all three members of the Hale pack. “Kids still sleeping?” she asks, letting them in and closing the door behind them softly.  
  
“Yeah,” Derek answers. “Should sleep for another few hours. The full moon always tuckers them out.”  
  
“As it should,” Kessa says, voice all warm and content. “Ah, I miss having little ones of my own.”  
  
“You have grandkids and nieces and nephews, right?” Stiles asks as she leads them into a room off the kitchen.  
  
“Yeah, and some kids of bitten wolves, too - but our family is huge, honestly. We’ll probably need to limit breeding soon if we don’t get more land.” She sighs. “It’s a shame. I hate doing that to my pack.”  
  
Her emissary and husband sit on couches in the room. Kessa closes and locks the door, and Michelle and Stiles simultaneously raise their hands to provide soundproofing spells. They laugh, and Stiles lowers his hands. “Sorry. Habit.”  
  
“No hay problema,” she says. “No problem.”  
  
“So you want to discuss the treaty,” Kessa says, leaning forward onto her knees, still cradling the cup of coffee.  
  
Stiles and Peter both look to Derek. He sighs. “Stiles, if you will, explain Isaac’s situation.”  
  
Stiles leans back against Derek’s shoulder. “You’ve seen Isaac and Ida, yes?”  
  
“The flinchy one and mute the toddler?”  
  
“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Well, they came from the Lahey pack.”  
  
Kessa’s husband - what was his name? Ed? - growls. “We don’t like the Laheys here.”  
  
“Ed, quiet,” Kessa snaps.  
  
“It’s alright. Neither do we,” Derek says softly.  
  
“You know of the workings of the Lahey pack, don’t you?” Stiles asks. Michelle nods. “Well, the alpha, Isaac and Ida’s father, he was beating them. Badly. That’s why Isaac’s - well, how he is.”  
  
“It’s a monstrosity,” Peter growls. “He’s six, for chrissakes.”  
  
Kessa leans back slightly. “What does this have to do with us?”  
  
“Peter,” Derek prompts.  
  
“I’m Derek’s second for more reasons than that I’m his uncle,” Peter says. “We have a treaty with them. We can’t attack them. But the treaty between you and the Lahey pack ends in just a few months, if I’m right.”  
  
Michelle nods slowly. “Three months.”  
  
“You need land,” Peter says bluntly. “The Lahey pack has a lot. We want those disgraces out of werewolf existence. If we work together, we can eradicate the pack. You help us, and we’ll give you half of the Lahey territory. If we make a new treaty with you that says we have to join in a fight with you against anyone you’re warring with, we can both get something out of this.”  
  
All three Reed members are silent.  
  
“Your adult pack is tiny,” Kessa says. “What can you offer us besides land in this fight in which we’re bound to lose more members than you?”  
  
Derek and Stiles meet eyes and Derek pulls out his phone, pulling up the website. “You’ve ordered off of our website before, right? Well, aside from discounts, we can also offer extremely potent protections charms and spells for the fight to protect your pack. And Stiles plans on taking a new apprentice soon, aside from the charm-maker. Petey could help from a distance - a far distance. Stiles will be particularly useful. We can offer two beta fighters and myself.” Derek nods to Peter. “Between Peter and Stiles, you will have an extremely well-planned fight. They’ll make it in our favor in every way. They think of everything.”  
  
//  
  
“How are the talks going?” Cora asks Stiles as they eat dinner, out in on the porch.  
  
Stiles takes a little while to answer, appreciating the classic white lattice porch looking out onto a big grassy field. The sky is a mixture of purple and pink and orange and blue, and the forest seems black.  
  
“They’re long,” Stiles says. “The Reed pack is admittedly hesitant. But I think they’ll agree, probably tomorrow morning.”  
  
“Can I come tomorrow?” she asks, giving him an eager look.  
  
Stiles pats her shoulder and stands, having finished the last of his food. “Sorry, Cora. This is just for the emissaries, alphas, and seconds.”  
  
She sighs. “I’m not a baby.”  
  
“This isn’t about that, Cora,” Stiles says. “And I promise if anything about you comes up in the conversations, I’ll have Derek call you to join us.”  
  
“Okay, I guess.” She sighs and pushes her green beans around.  
  
Stiles sits back next to her. “Tell me about your day.”  
  
“Well, after everyone got up and ready, we came over here for food. It was a good breakfast. Then Adam, Jeffrey, Maya, and Xela found me and we went and played XBox in Adam’s room. I think most of the kids played outside for most of the day. At like four, we went for a run. Xela is really into fitness, and Adam and I just thought it’d be fun.” She shrugs. “It was, but Adam and I weren’t as fast as Xela, so she kept having to slow down for us. Then we came back, showered, and ate.”  
  
Stiles leans back on his hands. “Do you like any of them?”  
  
“Not like that,” she says. “I think I like Adam and Xela best - like as friends. Xela said she could teach me Spanish - her mom’s from Ecuador - and Adam says he can show me how to carve stuff out of wood. That’s what we’re going to try to do tomorrow.”  
  
Stiles rubs his hand down her neck. “That sounds great, Cora.”  
  
“I wish there were more people my age in our pack,” Cora says, also leaning back on her hands.  
  
Stiles laughs. “I don’t think we can handle more kids!”  
  
Cora shrugs, but she laughs, too.  
  
//  
  
“Stiles, you gotta get up,” Derek says. “You need to brush your teeth and get ready to go to the Reed house.”  
  
Stiles almost yawns, but he catches himself. About half of the kids are sleeping, and the other half are downstairs, sleepily watching cartoons and doing schoolwork under the sheriff’s watchful eye. They’re missing three days of school for this trip, because the full moon fell between a Tuesday and a Wednesday. Of course, they’re ecstatic about this.  
  
When Stiles, Derek, and Peter are ready, they walk “next door” and are handed bagel breakfast sandwiches and coffee as they walk through the kitchen. Derek eats his in four neat bites, as does Peter, but Stiles takes his time, savoring the flavors of the eggs and cheese and butter and avocado.  
  
“We discussed more last night,” Kessa says. “And we have a proposition of our own.”  
  
“That sounds good,” Derek says. “Let’s hear it.”  
  
“We’ll make the treaty and help you with your goal,” Ed says.  
  
“But,” Kessa continues, “we have three conditions. One, we get three quarters of the Lahey land. Two, we have final say over whether or not the plans Stiles and Peter make will work. Three - well, this is more of a condition of the treaty itself.” She nods to Michelle.  
  
“A treaty like the one you’re suggesting won’t be solid enough unless mates are taken,” Michelle says.  
  
Stiles hits his own forehead. “Of course. I’m so stupid.”  
  
“You want Peter to take a mate?” Derek asks, ignoring his own for the moment. “But he’s _old_.”  
  
“Thanks,” Peter says drily.  
  
“No,” Ed says. “We want Cora to take a mate.”  
  
“She’s sixteen,” Derek hisses. “She can’t be making choices like that at sixteen.”  
  
“Hold on, Derek,” Stiles says. “Can you guys send someone to get her?” he asks.  
  
“Of course,” Kessa says, opening the door and saying something to a wolf on the other side. “Someone’s going to get her now.”  
  
“It wouldn’t need to be a mating of love,” Michelle adds softly. “They’d just need to produce a kid - through adoption or, you know, naturally. And Cora could take more than one mate. It happens.”  
  
“Tell Cora, not us,” Stiles says, hand gripping Derek’s knee tightly.  
  
A knock comes at the door, and Kessa lets Cora in. She smiles and hugs the beta. “Sit with your pack, Cora.”  
  
Cora glances at Derek nervously, but he stares at the ground, jaw twitching. “Stiles? What’s going on?”  
  
“They want you to take a mate. I tried to say no, but Stiles -”  
  
“I told him it was up to you,” Stiles says. “It can be anyone you want, and it doesn’t have to be for love, and you only eventually have to get a kid somehow.”  
  
“You could even take more than one,” Michelle adds. “I’ve heard you hit it off with Adam and Xela, right?”  
  
“Why do you need me to do this, Stiles?” she asks, giving him her “I’m a zillion years too young for this weary look” face.  
  
“The treaty won’t be strong enough without a mating, and Derek and I aren’t options.”  
  
“What about Peter?” She looks at her uncle and then back to Stiles.  
  
“He’s too old,” Derek mutters.  
  
“Jesus! I’m only fifty, and I could easily pass for forty, just saying.”  
  
Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Shut up, Peter. There’s very little likelihood that you’ll remate and have more kids.”  
  
Peter’s eyes go hard and then blue. “Don’t go there, human.”  
  
Derek snarls at his beta, and Peter controls himself. “Sorry,” Stiles says. “Didn’t filter. What do you think, Cora?”  
  
She takes a deep breath.”It’s a lot to think about, to be honest.”  
  
“You only need to be officially mated,” Kessa says. “And you can choose any person - or more than one - that’s not mated or under fifteen.”  
  
Cora takes a deep breath. “I -”  
  
“Cora, you’re sixteen. You shouldn’t make this decision now,” Derek says. “I was young when I met Kate -”  
  
“I’m not you, Derek,” Cora says. “Can I meet all the people around my age, think more on it?”  
  
“Of course,” Kessa says. “I’ll have them gather outside.” She and her husband and emissary leave, and Stiles throws up new soundproofing spells.  
  
Stiles hugs Cora. “Thank you, kid.”  
  
“Are you kidding? I get to choose as many people as I want to take home with me,” she says.  
  
“Uh, we’re gonna limit that,” Stiles says, chuckling.  
  
Derek still grinds his jaw. Stiles meets Peter’s eyes and nods for him to take Derek out of here. “Long, long, run,” he mutters.  
  
Peter nods and pats Stiles’s shoulder.  
  
“Let’s go, Stiles,” Cora says, grabbing his arm.  
  
“Okay, okay,” Stiles says, letting himself be led out through the kitchen. True to her word, Kessa has gotten all of the members of her pack aged about fifteen to nineteen. Most look like she woke them up for this.  
  
“Cora will be choosing her mate - or mates - from you lot,” Kessa says. “We are entering into a more serious treaty with the Hale pack. If she decides she wants to have you, you have no say.”  
  
No one dares to say anything, but Stiles can tell the teenagers aren’t particularly happy about that.  
  
“Good,” Kessa says. “Cora, do you have anything to say? Or the Hale emissary?”  
  
“Um, well, if you’re one hundred percent opposed to leaving your home - even if not forever - why don’t you go stand over there,” Cora says.  
  
The betas look at their alpha. “If that’s what Cora wants. Don’t leave.”  
  
Cora smiles a little, and Stiles puts a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want anyone that would hate me for ripping them out of their lives,” she says, blushing.  
  
About a third of the group moves to the side.  
  
“A note from me,” Stiles says. “Our pack can be a little crazy with so many kids, and we follow a very specific set of rules in order to keep everything running smoothly. You’ll have a lot of chores and expectations, but also a lot of freedom. You will have to work hard, but you’ll have a good life. Oh, and you’ll be expected to participate in providing funds for the family once you turn seventeen, whether you make something for the website or get a job.”  
  
The teens in the crowd - about eight, now - all nod.  
  
“Well, um, Adam and Xela,” Cora says, scratching her head. “This is kinda awkward. Can the rest of us just, um, talk one-on-one?”  
  
“Of course. Everyone but these six and Adam and Xela can go,” Kessa says.  
  
“Cora, we can’t fit more than three,” Stiles says softly.  
  
She nods. “I just want to talk.”  
  
Cora takes three of the Reed pack teens into the woods to talk before she comes out with a determined look on her face, and it’s obvious she’s chosen. “Rye is my last choice,” she says, crossing her arms.  
  
“But she’s human,” Kessa says.  
  
The teen in question purses their lips and looks to Cora, who says, “You said it was my choice.”  
  
At this, Kessa nods once and waves a hand. “The rest of you may go.” The three that Cora chose remain. “They’re yours now.”  
  
“We can’t take them yet. Besides, you need time to notify their school, let them pack, say goodbye…we can come pick them up in a week,” Stiles says. “Is that okay?” he asks the three teens who stand there with their hands stuffed into their pockets or hunched or pin-straight.  
  
“Yes,” one peeps.  
  
“Cool, a week it is. Why don’t you go spend some time with our pack?” Stiles glances at Kessa. “Do you mind if we continue with writing the treaty and such tomorrow? Derek and Peter are out running, and I’d like to speak with the kids,” Stiles says.  
  
“Of course,” Kessa says. “Your pack has done much for our pack. You’ve even made our pack smaller, which is helpful.”  
  
“They haven’t yet joined our pack,” Stiles points out softly. “They haven’t accepted Derek as their alpha, nor has Derek accepted them as betas.” He glances at the human one. “Or humans.”  
  
“In time,” she says. “Go be with your pack.”  
  
Stiles leads the teenagers, two of whom are talking excitedly with Cora, to the guest house. He lets them in and notices the human hang back. “My name is Stiles,” he says, offering a hand while Cora and Adam and Xela go up the stairs. “Would you like to sit and talk with me for a little while?”  
  
Rye nods. “My, uh, my name is Rye, but I guess you already know that. Cora only took me because I begged for her to. I knew your pack has a trans kid, and more humans than ours, and I just… I wanted a place to fit in. I don’t have anyone here.”  
  
Stiles pats their shoulder. “We do have a trans kid. She’s nine. Are you transgender?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Rye says, shoulders slumping.  
  
“That’s alright,” Stiles says. “You don’t have to know. Do you have a preferred pronoun?”  
  
The teen shrugs. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”  
  
“It’s totally fine, so was I at your age,” Stiles says. “Is she okay? I want to let the kiddos know.”  
  
“She is fine,” Rye says. “For now, at least.”  
  
“Okay,” Stiles says. “Why don’t you go upstairs, see if you can’t join in on Cora and Adam and Xela’s conversation? I’m going to go find the kids and get Peter to bring Derek back.” He ruffles her hair and stands, pulling on his brown jacket again. When he’s outside, he closes his eyes and looks for the ties between him and Peter. Choosing the strongest, a yellow strand that glows and hums, he follows it with his magic to Peter, leaving an impression of come home.  
  
Then Stiles goes to the area where most of the kids play and yells, “HALE PACK, C’MERE!”  
  
It takes a few minutes, but soon, all eight kids - Ida is in the nursery are of the Reed pack house, being cared for by a few of the Reed pack - surround Stiles.  
  
“What’s up, Babi?” Petey asks.  
  
“Yeah, we were playing,” Jackson says. He holds up a grubby arm. “See?”  
  
“I see that all of you need showers tonight,” Stiles teases. “But that’s not why I called you. We’re taking three new people into our pack.”  
  
All sixteen eyes stare at him. “Why?” Liam finally says.  
  
“Cora has chosen three possible mates from the Reed pack, and we are to have them live with us,” Stiles says.  
  
“Alpha Papa isn’t happy,” Isaac says, looking as though he wants to run and hide. “And he’s coming.”  
  
Stiles picks Isaac up. “It’s okay. Papa isn’t going to do anything. We’re going to go into the house and you can meet them.”  
  
“Where are they gonna sleep?”  
  
“In Cora’s room,” Stiles says, walking towards the house, Isaac still on his hip. He holds Scott’s hand, too.  
  
“Are they going to be pack-pack? Are they wolves?” Erica looks up at Stiles.  
  
“Two of them are wolves and one is human,” Stiles says. He opens the door and ushers the kids inside. “Cora, bring them down.”  
  
Peter slips in the door, panting slightly and covered in mud and twigs and… “Is that moss?” Stiles asks, gesturing to his hair.  
  
Peter pulls at whatever’s in his hair. “I hope so. Derek’s outside. He wants to talk to you.”  
  
Stiles and Peter hold a conversation in body language and eye movements, and Stiles sighs, sets Isaac down, and goes outside.  
  
Derek sits on the dirt outside the house. Like Peter, he’s dirty, but he just crosses his arms over his bare chest at Stiles’s walking outside of the house.  
  
“The woods,” Stiles says, walking past him. “And I’ll put up a spell for privacy.”  
  
Derek follows him, seemingly having reverted to the state he was in when they first met: broody, glare-y, and non-communicative. Stiles leads them to a clearing with a few stumps and throws up his soundproofing spell. Every magic user does the spell differently, and they produce different effects for those trying to listen. Stiles’s, for instance, simply mutes the conversation from the rest of the world, but some replace the sounds with a song, or make the words unintelligible, or any number of other effects.  
  
“How many did she choose?” Derek says, glaring at Stiles.  
  
“Three.” Stiles hates himself for it, but Derek shirtless, covered in dirt, and glaring at him with his alpha voice-growl is kind of turning him on. And Derek knows it, too, because as mad as his human side is, his wolf side - and dick - is responding to the smell of Stiles being turned on.  
  
But Derek controls his wolf side and huffs. “You went against me.”  
  
“It was Cora’s choice,” Stiles says, crossing his arms and mimicking Derek’s glare.  
  
“I’m the alpha, Stiles,” Derek growls. “You can’t do that to me in front of packs we’re trying to make treaties with.”  
  
“I can, Derek. I’m the emissary and I say only what is for the best of the pack.”  
  
Derek frowns and paces slightly. “And I was -”  
  
“Your judgement was clouded,” Stiles says, almost snapping. “You were thinking about you and Kate. And you were young, Der, but this isn’t like that. These aren’t hunters. And Petey can read them like books. You can ask her about them.”  
  
Derek crosses his arms. “I - I guess you’re right.”  
  
“I’m sorry I went against you in front of them,” Stiles says. “But making the decision for Cora would have caused more problems than you think. She’s already mad about us expecting her to act like an adult in terms of the kids and yet not asking for her input in pack decisions.”  
  
Derek leans back onto his hands. “She’s not old enough yet,” he says. “Even when my mom was alpha, she wouldn’t have had any say, not until she was eighteen.”  
  
Stiles hums and comes to sit next to Derek on the forest floor. “Well, maybe you should sit her down to talk anyway. Oh, and we’ll probably need to do another extension on the house. I don’t think we can have four teenagers sharing Cora’s admittedly small room for long.”  
  
Derek shrugs. “Can we make them build the extension?”  
  
Stiles laughs. “You want four teenagers to do construction on your house without adult supervision?”  
  
Derek considers. “No, not really.”  
  
“Well, it’s only a little while until their winter break, so we can have them work on it with you then,” Stiles says.  
  
“What are you thinking they’ll build? And where?”  
  
“Is it feasible to have them build a separate house?” Stiles asks quietly. “Just for sleeping and such - sort of like a dorm, except without a kitchen.”  
  
Derek shrugs. “It’s probably easier than adding onto the second floor.”  
  
Stiles stands and takes the spell down with a wave of his hand. “C’mon, come meet the new pack members.”  
  
“Are they all wolves?” Derek asks, standing and taking Stiles’s hand.  
  
“No, one’s human.”  
  
Derek nods slowly. “This alliance with the Reed pack will be good,” he says, holding the door for Stiles.  
  
“I - _holy shit_.” Stiles turns on Peter. “You were supposed to supervise! And we were only gone for like fifteen minutes!”  
  
Peter shrugs. “They’re alright in my eyes.”  
  
“Where did they even get all this mud?” Stiles asks, groaning.  
  
Derek’s eyes glow red and he lets out a deep growl, one that makes even Stiles and Peter freeze where they are and glance around nervously. “Line up,” he growls.  
  
Isaac starts crying quickly.  
  
“He’s not gonna hit you,” Petey says quickly, putting an arm around him. “It’s okay, Isaac. Papa doesn’t hit us.”  
  
“This is irresponsible and frankly rude to the Reed pack,” Derek says, voice still alpha-y. He stares at the teenagers. “I would expect more.”  
  
“They’re just kids, Derek,” Peter says. “They were bonding. It’s just mud.”  
  
“We can clean it.”  
  
“Thank you, Cora, for suggesting that,” Derek says. “In fact, you _will_ be cleaning it. Go get towels. This place had better be clean by the time I’m done with my shower.” When no one moves, he adds, “Now, betas!”  
  
Everyone except Isaac jumps and starts moving. Stiles takes Isaac’s hand and leads him towards the bathroom, peeling off his muddy layers. “Hey, buddy, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Stiles says. He points towards the shower. “Will you be okay to clean up?”  
  
Isaac doesn’t stop crying. Stiles has an idea and smooths his curls, picking him back up. Stiles tosses Isaac’s clothes in their dirty clothes trash bag and carries Isaac up the stairs. Stiles can hear Derek showering, and he brings the sobbing child into the bathroom.  
  
“Derek,” Stiles says calmly, pulling the door to the shower open. “Isaac is going to shower with you.”  
  
Derek raises his eyebrows at Stiles and then looks at the sobbing child. “Of course. Do you want to use big pup shampoo?”  
  
Isaac nods, crying having slowed form a sob to hiccups and quiet tears.  
  
Stiles closes the door and leaves the wolves to their devices.  
  
//  
  
“And how do you expect the fight to go?” Kessa asks, sprawled over a combination of her husband and the couch.  
  
Stiles, similarly situated but also cuddling with Peter, says, “Well, it won’t be easy, and they’ll be brutal fights, but it will be doable.”  
  
“Do you expect us to cull all of them?” she asks, voice quieter. “I don’t know if my pack can handle that, even if it’s theoretically deserved.”  
  
Stiles stares at her for a second. “What? No!” He shakes his head. “No, anyone that’s mostly innocent will simply be stripped of their powers and made to forget being a wolf. I can do the dewolfing and Petey the memory loss. If I train an apprentice, they could help Petey, too.”  
  
“And the ones that aren’t innocent? Like Alpha Lahey?”  
  
“We rip their throats out with our teeth,” Peter says daintily.  
  
There’s silence for a moment after that, only broken when Derek wraps his arms around Stiles in a different way.  
  
“Anyway,” Michelle says. “Let’s work on the terms of this treaty. Obviously, we can’t mention the whole 'conspiracy against the Lahey pack' thing, but the mating and coming to each other’s aid in times of war - which will mostly likely be seen as a defensive desire for you, given that you only have like three full-grown wolves - will have to go in there. You guys have anything else?”  
  
“I don’t think so,” Stiles says, frowning.  
  
“Alright. I’ll draft it today with Stiles, and then your pack can go home until you drive back up to pick up the kids.” Michelle picks up a laptop and signals for Stiles to come sit next to her.  
  
Stiles sighs and drags himself off of the cuddle puddle he, Derek, and Peter had. He sits next to Michelle and watches as she begins to type.  
  
He points to the screen. “Alright, so here…”


	4. Chapter Four

“Cora, come on, it’s time to go!” Stiles yells. He kisses Derek and says, “Love you, Der. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”  
  
Derek nods and smiles, hugging him. “Love you too, Stiles.”  
  
“You don’t want me to go,” Stiles says.  
  
Derek shakes, his head smiling still. “It’s against all of my instincts to let you go into another pack’s territory without me at your side.”  
  
“Sorry, Stiles,” Cora says, getting in the passenger seat. “Ready?”  
  
Stiles kisses Derek one more time. “It’s alright, Der - just in and out. And you like Kessa. I’ll see you soon, babe.” Then he gets in the car. Derek watches as they leave, kind of looking like he wants to wolf out and run after the car.  
  
“My brother a little crazy?” Cora asks, pulling out her chemistry textbook.  
  
“Yep,” Stiles says. “Didn’t really want me going without him.”  
  
She laughs. “My brother loves you. You’re his mate. It’s not surprising, really.”  
  
“Did he talk to you?” Stiles asks.  
  
“‘Bout what?” She puts her feet up on the dashboard.  
  
“About your say in pack decisions,” Stiles says.  
  
“Oh. Yeah,” Cora answers, shrugging. “He said that you guys’d ask my opinion and consider it, but that any real say in the pack doesn’t come until you’re eighteen.”  
  
Stiles pats her shoulder and gets onto the freeway. “Yeah, sorry.”  
  
“It’s okay. I get it. Plus I think part of the frustration was not really being able to have friends my own age. You and Der are cool, but you’re not really my friends, I guess. And having so much responsibility for the kids at home makes it hard to go hang out with my classmates, like, ever. So it will be good to have the three Re- um, new pack members.”  
  
Stiles ruffles her hair. “Hey, you have any special requests for dinner tonight? I can text Derek.”  
  
“Let’s ask the new pack members,” she says. “And right now, I need to study for my make-up chem test.”  
  
//  
  
“Alpha Reed,” Stiles greets, offering a hand.  
  
“Emissary Stilinski-Hale,” she says, eyes twinkling as she shakes his hand. “The kids are ready to go, but can we offer you anything to eat or drink first?”  
  
“A cup of coffee would be great,” Stiles says. “And a bathroom. I have to make the same three-hour drive back.”  
  
She ushers him into the kitchen and hands him a cup of coffee. Then, suddenly, she leans in, sniffs him, and laughs. “Ah, to be young and in love again,” she says, grinning at him.  
  
Stiles shrugs. “Honestly, you’re pretty lucky Derek didn’t ‘ravish’ me during the full moon.”  
  
She nearly giggles. “No, but it doesn’t smell like he waited very long after you guys got home.”  
  
Stiles shakes his head. “Nope. Plus, this week has been relaxed enough that we’ve had lots of time.”  
  
“STILES!” Cora yells. “Stop talking about your sex life and hurry up!”  
  
Stiles laughs and accepts the coffee. “You have a bit, Cora. Help them get their stuff into the car.”  
  
“On the one hand, I’d feel bad about adding to your house’s craziness, but on the other, our pack is just as crazy in some ways.” Kessa pats Stiles’s shoulder.  
  
Stiles rubs his eyes. “There’s so much stuff I miss.”  
  
“What do you mean?” she asks, leaning onto the counter.  
  
Stiles throws up a soundproofing spell. “I miss sleep,” he says. “And having Derek mostly to myself. And not having every decision I make affect the futures of nine kids and Cora.”  
  
She nods slowly. “That’s reasonable.”  
  
“What do you miss?”  
  
Kessa considers as she sips her coffee. “Never worrying that my hubris would affect others.” When Stiles cocks his head, inviting explanation, she adds, “Hubris - it’s defined as excessive pride or confidence, but in ancient Greece, it could also mean going against the path that is set, believing one can do better than the gods, and believing that one’s capabilities are better than they are in reality. I work very hard to control my hubris.”  
  
Stiles nods. “Being a leader is hard,” he says.  
  
“Yes,” Kessa says. “If you’d like a bathroom, there’s one down that hallway. Third door on the left.”  
  
“Thanks,” Stiles says, going down the hall. When he’s finished his business, he comes back out, sets his cup in the sink, and turns back to Kessa. “Thank you.”  
  
“Of course. You and your pack are always welcome here, Stiles,” she says, hand on his shoulder.  
  
He nods and turns, heading to the door. “And what you have offered my pack is invaluable, Alpha Reed.”  
  
“Revenge?”  
  
“Justice,” Stiles says, opening the door. “But the two share a border.” He heads out to the car. “Cora, is everyone ready?”  
  
“Yeah,” she says, tossing her black hair over her shoulder. “Who’s sitting where, Stiles?”  
  
“You guys can decide,” Stiles says, getting into the driver’s seat.  
  
“Rye, you’re up there with Stiles, then,” Cora says. “Humans, and all.”  
  
“How come you listen to Stiles?” Adam asks.  
  
“Yeah,” Xela agrees. “He’s only like ten years older, and a human at that.”  
  
“Excuse you,” Stiles says. “Not _only_ am I the mate of your _alpha_ , I am also an extremely powerful mage and the Hale emissary.” He raises his eyebrow. “I wasn’t kidding about responsibility in our household. Cora does well. You three will as well.”  
  
The wolves in the back seat shift, uncomfortable. “I’m glad you understand,” Stiles says pleasantly. “And Cora can tell you just how…persuasive Derek can be.”  
  
“My brother is stubborn, scary, and relentless,” Cora states. “But if you respect him, he’s great.”  
  
The betas on either side of Cora meet each other's gazes.  
  
“Derek is a good man,” Stiles says firmly. “You’ll do well with him.”  
  
//  
  
Derek crosses his arms and gives the three newcomers his best alpha-glare.  
  
“He won’t accept you into his pack until you accept him as your alpha,” Stiles says idly, leaning against the porch railing with four or five kids draped over him.  
  
Rye gives in first, kneeling. Derek smiles and places his hand on her shoulder. “Go join your pack,” he says softly, pushing her towards the pack gathered on the porch.  
  
Then he turns back around towards the other two, giving them his alpha stare until Adam breaks and kneels as well, scowling at the ground even as Derek sends him to be with Stiles and Cora.  
  
Isaac worms his way closer to Stiles, thumb tucked in his mouth and legs wrapped around the mage’s waist. Scott makes a sound of displeasure and stands to scent Stiles. Petey’s wrapped around Stiles from behind and pushes Scott away from Stiles’s neck when he obstructs her view of Derek and the last beta’s showdown. Liam and Boyd sit on the steps between Stiles’s legs, Liam leaning his head back to rest it on the mage’s thigh.  
  
“Oh shit,” Cora says. “Ida!”  
  
Ida ignores the teenager and makes a dash for Derek, climbing up him like a tree to cling to his shoulder. Derek simply shifts an arm from his hip to support the toddler.  
  
Stiles looks around the family home idly while Derek glares at the teenager. Kate only succeeded in burning part of the house - the part that, at that time, housed Derek’s parents, older sister, aunt, cousins, and Peter (even though he survived) - but Stiles insisted on tearing everything down and rebuilding. They made it bigger and made it fit their family’s needs and then added on when they realized Derek wasn’t going to stop with four kids. Stiles chose the paint (a shade of green that reminds him of Derek’s eyes, grey [his favorite color besides “Derek green,” and white) and some other design aspects, but Derek did nearly everything with Peter and a few of the Sukkalgir vampires who’d offered to help.  
  
Finally Xela kneels. Derek nods and sends her to join the pack as well. Stiles looks over the tentative bonds between Derek and the newcomers. They don’t trust Derek yet, but the pack bonds are there, and Adam and Xela have particularly good bonds with Cora.  
  
“Did Peter and Dad make dinner?” Stiles asks Derek as he joins them on the porch, plucking his brother and Boyd off of Stiles’s legs with ease.  
  
Derek kisses the mage. “Yep.” He stands and opens the door to the house, even with a tween on his back and two kids in his arms. “Come on in, pack.”  
  
Stiles also stands, though he has slightly more trouble with three kids in his arms. Derek comes back, takes Petey, winks, and kisses Stiles again. “Thanks, Der,” Stiles says. He brings Isaac and Scott to the dining room and plops them in their chairs.  
  
“Dad, what’d you guys make?”  
  
“Chili,” the sheriff says, bringing bowls and utensils out. “Peter made it chock-full of vegetables, and I made it chock-full of family goodness.”  
  
“Excuse you,” Peter drawls. “I could easily argue that vegetables are required for family goodness.”  
  
The sheriff and Stiles laugh. “Thank you, Peter,” Stiles says. “God knows if my dad had his choice, he’d fill it with meat and cheese and stuff that’s bad for his heart.”  
  
Peter hands Stiles silverware. “If we let the kids have that kind of food, they’ll be bouncing off the walls and I’ll have to deal with it.” He sniffs. “I’m just being selfish.”  
  
Stiles laughs again and shoves Peter. “You big liar. You care.”  
  
Peter shrugs. “I’ll go get the food.” But as he passes Stiles, he slides a hand over the back of Stiles’s neck. “You don’t smell enough like pack,” he mutters.  
  
Stiles hugs Peter. “Any better?”  
  
“Go cuddle with Derek or something,” Peter adds. “Be your usual disgustingly cute selves.”  
  
“I think we will,” Derek says, coming up behind Stiles and wrapping himself around the mage. “Hey, Stiles,” he murmurs.  
  
Peter slips away as Derek holds Stiles to the wall, rubbing himself all over his mate. Stiles lets him do it with practiced restraint. Derek gets like this sometimes, and if Stiles popped a boner every time Derek did something that turned him on, the kids wouldn’t know what Stiles actually smelled like.  
  
Stiles rubs his hands over Derek’s almost too-muscled back. “Dinner.”  
  
“ _In_ a _minute_ ,” he mumbles against Stiles’s neck. He bites down lightly and then licks over the same spot.  
  
“ _Der_.”  
  
The alpha huffs and pulls away. “Better. Not perfect.”  
  
Stiles chuckles and pulls Derek into the dining room by his hands. Isaac and Scott both take one whiff of Stiles, meet each other’s eyes, and raise their hands, looking at Derek.  
  
“Uh,” Derek says. “Scott? Isaac? What are you doing?”  
  
“Can we scent Babi?” Scott asks, done waiting.  
  
Derek shrugs and comes to surround Stiles from behind. “Knock yourselves out.”  
  
The two kids jump out of their seats and race over to Stiles, who chuckles and boosts them up. “Babi,” Scott murmurs, holding Stiles as tightly as his little arms can manage.  
  
//  
  
“Liam, Scott, Miriam, dishes,” Stiles says. “Teens, with us. The rest of you can watch some more Star Wars with Uncle Peter and Grampa.”  
  
“Sweet,” Erica says, and then adds to Jackson, “Bet you’re gonna get scared.”  
  
“Am not,” he says. “I bet I’m gonna beat you there.” The two race off.  
  
Isaac holds Stiles’s hand. “Can I come?”  
  
“Nope. Go watch the movie,” Derek says, gently shoving him towards the den.  
  
Isaac huffs and goes in, Boyd following. Petey now tugs on Stiles’s hand.  
  
“What?” Stiles asks.  
  
“Can I work in the workshop?”  
  
“No, not by yourself, not while I’m busy with Papa and the pack,” Stiles says. “Mike’s coming over tomorrow with Lydia to work with us anyway. You’ll have time then.”  
  
She huffs as well, arms crossed in the sassy pout position she, Erica, and Isaac do so well. “Fine.” Petey walks through the door to the den, pulling her mousy hair out of its ponytail.  
  
Derek takes Stiles’s hand and tugs him towards the stairs. “Cora, is your door unlocked?”  
  
“Yeah,” she says.  
  
“Okay.” He stops the group outside of Cora’s door. “For now, you four will share Cora’s room. I know it’s kind of small for four people, but we have plans to build something else for your three later.” Derek stands in front of the door, arms crossed. “Stiles, do you want to go over the housekeeping tidbits?”  
  
“I guess,” Stiles says. “It’s really not complicated. Cora and Derek make chore charts. You’ll have one family chore per week, three kitchen crew jobs per week, and your own chores - like keeping up your room and cleaning up any little messes you make. Sheets and towels get washed on Sundays. Derek and I bought you guys new sheets to help you get adjusted to the pack scent a little before you have to sleep in it, but all of the sheets get washed together and then given back at random, so you don’t have long to get used to it. You can choose to all four share Cora’s bathroom or use the other bathroom, which has extra showers and toilets and stuff.” Stiles taps on his chin. “Der, did I forget anything?”  
  
“I don’t think so,” Derek says. “Cora can help you settle in, anyway. Now for ground rules.” He looks to Stiles, and Stiles nods his head back at Derek. “Okay, well, for starters, Stiles and I do require obedience. We understand it’s hard to have this shit shoved on you as teenagers, but with so many kids, we need you four to be leaders. We don’t ask much in terms of rules outside of chores and obedience of the other rules, so it shouldn’t be hard.”  
  
“The main rules are, obviously, to keep pack secrets, do your schoolwork, and help with the kids,” Stiles says. “We’re here if you need help with school -”  
  
“Stiles is really smart,” Derek adds.  
  
“- and if you have a lot of problems with the school here, we can look into other options,” Stiles says. “Please, follow the law here. My father is the sheriff, and it would be problematic if you got pulled over by his deputies.”  
  
“And Stiles hasn’t mentioned some of the more mundane ones,” Derek says, taking his hand and smiling at his mate. “We have sort of dangerous products on the third floor for Stiles, Petey, Mike, and Lydia - Stiles’s coven, you’ll meet them sometime tomorrow - so it’s a rule not to go there without Stiles or myself.”  
  
“What kind of stuff do you have up there?” Adam asks, crossing his arms.  
  
Stiles raises his brows. “Well, aside from the wide variety of herbs that are poisonous to wolves, I have a ton of chemicals that are bad for anyone, as well as some acids - including a small amount of hydrochloric acid used for exactly one recipe in tiny amounts - and some cursed items given to me by the Sukkalgir clan for research, potions, you name it. There’s some other stuff, but that’s the dangerous stuff.”  
  
“Isn’t Petey like nine?” Xela says.  
  
“Petey knows what not to touch,” Stiles says. “And she isn’t allowed in there without me or Mike, anyway. But that rule is in place so you don’t hurt yourself.”  
“If you do get wolfsbane or mountain ash or anything on you, Stiles has cures and salves for them,” Derek says. “Don’t hesitate to ask. We are also here to help with whatever.”  
  
“What about curfew? Rules about friends coming over? Stuff like that?” Rye says quietly.  
  
“Well, on nights when you have kitchen work, you have to be here by five,” Derek says. “School night curfew is ten, eleven if you have a really good reason and let us know in advance. Summer, weekend, and break curfew is midnight, in the house, no exceptions. We’ll let you know if there’s some reason you have to be back early. Stiles and I have ordered phones for you - Alpha Reed no longer pays for your expenses, and that includes your phones. We’ll give them to you with the pack numbers programmed in.”  
  
“And we hate to say it, but we don’t allow humans to come over while all the kids are home,” Stiles says apologetically. “We want the pups to be able to feel comfortable at home. They’ve already spent all day pretending to be human, so they want to be able to wolf out when they get home, and we let them.”  
  
“Can we go to other people’s houses?”  
  
“If you tell us first,” Derek says.  
  
“Jobs,” Stiles says.  
  
“Oh, yeah.” Derek scratches his head. “Who all is seventeen here?”  
  
Adam raises his hand. “Do I _have_ to get a job?”  
  
“Well, do you have any craftsmanship skills? Things we can sell on the pack company’s website?”  
  
“I can whittle pretty well, if you give me tools and wood,” Adam says. “Animals, gnomes, trees, you name it. I’m better at nature, but I could do basically whatever.”  
  
“Okay, sounds good,” Stiles says. “If you could put an hour or so into that every day, it’d be great. The website is our main source of income, along with my dad’s salary and Peter’s part-time job.”  
  
“What else does Peter do?”  
  
“A lot of odd jobs around the house and property,” Derek says. “And he makes some paintings for the website. They sell pretty well.”  
  
“If either of you have anything you want to contribute, you can,” Stiles says. “We have no minimum age for contributing. You should know now, though, that any money you earn has to go into the pack account. You won’t need for money or things here, but Derek and I are the ones that will give you money. Just ask.”  
  
Derek nods. “Pack training is Saturdays from nine until four. Do you guys have any other questions?”  
  
“Dating?”  
  
Derek raises his eyebrow. “All three of you are supposed to be Cora’s mates.”  
  
“But, like…” Xela waves her arms. “We’re teenagers. We’re not expected to mate yet, anyway.”  
  
Stiles pulls a face. “The same rules for friends apply to dating. No one over here. If you’re going to have sex, do it legally and with proper protection. If my father’s deputies catch you doing it outside, you in no way belong to us. Run or something. And keep any relationships you have quiet.”  
  
“I’m going to veto you on this, Stiles,” Derek says quietly. “As much as I hate to do this, you need to wait a few months before you can have relationships. This treaty with your old pack is too fresh. If you show other packs the treaty has any questions in it, it could be problematic. If you want to date Cora, go for it. But wait for anyone else.” He turns to Stiles, who bows his head in acquiescence.  
  
The three teens nod.  
  
“You can do whatever you want here tonight. If you want to unpack and settle in, go for it. You can also go watch the movie or watch one on your own. Let us know if you need anything.” Stiles nods at them and rubs the back of his neck before turning to go. “Breakfast at seven fifteen tomorrow.”  
  
//  
  
“Der, are you busy this morning?” Stiles asks as they eat.  
  
“Yeah, I have a call with some IRS people,” Derek says. “They didn’t give our refund back yet, and it was supposed to come a week ago.”  
  
“Okay, I can take the kids to school, I guess.”  
  
“They’re not taking the bus?” Derek asks.  
  
Stiles points to the three teenagers, backpacks slung on their chairs. “They have to be registered, Der, and one of us has to take them.”  
  
Derek kisses his head as he takes his bowl to the sink. “Thanks, magelet.”  
  
“Can I ride with you, Stiles?” Cora asks.  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Stiles says. “We need to leave now, though, because I have to fill out papers.” He turns towards the kitchen. “Derek, can you make sure the kids make it to the bus stop in time?”  
  
“I got it,” the sheriff says.  
  
“Thanks, Dad!” Stiles calls, already walking towards the door. He grabs the transcripts and paperwork they need. “Cora and co, car.” He grabs the keys and slides shoes and a coat on. “C’mon.” He sits in the car, buckles his seatbelt, and starts the car. “What books did you bring?”  
  
“Notebooks and stuff,” Rye answers.  
  
“Cool.” Stiles gets on the road to take them to the school. “Do you have any idea of what classes you’ll register for?”  
  
“Won’t most of them be required?”  
  
Stiles shrugs. “Some of ‘em, but you’ll have electives and stuff.”  
  
“You went here, right?”  
  
“He was top of his class,” Cora says. “He went to Stanford and graduated in two and a half years with multiple degrees.”  
  
“How?” Rye asks, eyes wide.  
  
“I’m a hard worker, and I wanted to get back to Derek,” Stiles admits, blushing slightly. “We’d started getting serious when I was nineteen, but he wouldn’t let me come back for good until I’d gotten my degrees.”  
  
“ _Je_ sus,” Adam mutters.  
  
“We’re here,” Stiles announces, wanting to end the conversation before the betas ask any more questions. “Cora, do you have something to do while I do paperwork?”  
  
“Yeah, I can go over my chem notes. Harris probably has a pop quiz scheduled.” Cora rolls her eyes. “Why couldn’t you teach chem here, Stiles?”  
  
“Careful, he’s probably listening,” Stiles stage-whispers, grinning at her. “Dude, Harris was the bane of my existence when I was here.” He nods to the door. “Go on, Cora.” Then he leads the way to the office. “Hello, Mrs. Akiyama. How are you today?”  
  
“Stiles,” she says. “It’s good to see you. How is your father?”  
  
“He’s doing pretty well,” Stiles says. “Your son is doing great as a deputy, too.”  
  
“I’m very proud of him,” she says. “More new kids?”  
  
“Yep,” Stiles says. “I have their transcripts, medical papers, our proof of guardianship, and some other papers here. What do you need me to fill out?”  
  
“Let me get my secretary to give them to you,” she says, pressing the pager. “Eiji, come here.”  
  
“Yes, Mother?” he says, sticking his head through the door. “Hi, Stiles!” He waves brightly.  
  
“Can you get three copies of the registration papers? And a copy of the course list.” Mrs. Akiyama looks to the three teenagers. “Hello. I am Principal Akiyama. I do not tolerate bad behavior.” She gives them her tight-lipped smile. “Your names?”  
  
“I’m Xela Ajacopa,” Xela says, tucking her hands behind her back.  
  
“Adam Andersson,” Adam offers next.  
  
“Rye Reed.” Rye sort of mutters when she says it, already in a submissive position. Stiles knows Mrs. Akiyama sees it.  
  
“Feel free to come to me or my son with any problems,” she says. When Eiji returns with the papers and the coursebook, she hands Rye the coursebook and Stiles the paperwork.  
  
“Yikes,” he says.  
  
She takes the stacks back and removes about a third of each. “The documentation you’ve provided will cover these pages. Why the middle of the year transfer?”  
  
“We moved in with the Hale p- with the Hales,” Adam says.  
  
Stiles works on filling the remaining paperwork out. “Is Eiji going to help them with their class registration?” he asks as he scribbles.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Stiles nods. “Here’s Rye’s papers,” he says absently, holding them out.  
  
“That was quick.”  
  
Stiles raises his eyebrow. “I could put filling out forms as a resume skill. I’d estimate I spend, like, half of my time doing it.” He gestures to the kids with his free hand. “Do you guys know what you want to register for as your electives? You might want to continue with something similar to what you were studying at your old school, to make it easier.” He hands Mrs. Akiyama the next set. “Adam’s.”  
  
“Shop is my elective and Spanish is my language,” Adam says.  
  
“Tell Eiji, not me,” Stiles says, chuckling. He continues to write as they go into the other room.  
  
“Stiles.”  
  
“Mhm?” he says, not looking up.  
  
“Stiles,” Mrs. Akiyama repeats, more strictly.  
  
He looks up, and she mimes plugging her ears. He nods and throws the spell up. “Sorry.”  
  
“Are they…?”  
  
He nods. “Adam and Xela are like Cora and Derek. Rye is human.”  
  
“Are you ever going to tell me what they are?”  
  
He shakes his head. “They can tell if you lie. It’s better you can honestly say you don’t know what they are.” He hands her the papers and removes the spell. “Here’s Xela’s paperwork. Mind if I show them to their homerooms?”  
  
“Of course,” she says, frowning. “Eiji,” she calls, “are you done?”  
  
“Almost, Mother. I just need to print Xela’s schedule,” he calls back, not turning from the desktop.  
  
“Print faster,” she mutters. Stiles laughs.  
  
Stiles stands. “Everyone have everything?” At their nod, he waves to the principal. “Thank you, Mrs. Akiyama. I trust they’ll do well.”  
  
“I do as well,” she says. “Tell your father hello, Stiles.”  
  
“Okay, kids, I’m going to show you to your homerooms and introduce you to the teachers. The schedule can be a little confusing, but you’ll figure it out. Because it’s a Monday, you have homeroom first. It’s just a ten-minute period that happens before either advising or college counseling, if you’re a junior or senior. The teacher will probably just take attendance and tell you if there’s assembly or some other important news, and they might feed you.” Stiles stops at Cora’s homeroom. “Rye, you’re with Cora in Hernandez’s classroom, right?”  
  
Rye nods.  
  
Stiles grins and opens the door. “Hey, Emily.”  
  
“How is he on a first-name basis with everyone?” Xela hisses at Adam.  
  
“I’m friendly,” Stiles calls back, pushing Rye into the room.  
  
“Hi, Stiles,” she says. “Cora’s in the bathroom, I think.”  
  
“He’s _crazy_ ,” Xela mutters.  
  
“I heard that. And no, no, I know Cora’s here,” Stiles says. “This is Rye.”  
  
“Another Hale?”  
  
“No, but Der and I are taking care of some of Cora’s…friends.” Stiles smiles brightly. “I wanted to bring them to their classrooms, settle ‘em in, stuff like that.”  
  
“Alright, well, Rye, I’m Ms. Hernandez. I teach biology here.” She waves to Stiles as he leaves, not stopping talking to Rye, who’s set her backpack down.  
  
“Who’s next?” Stiles asks. “Xela, whose homeroom are you in?”  
  
“Someone named Harris?”  
  
Stiles chokes. “Yikes. Um, you - ugh.” He heads towards the chemistry wing. “Hi, Mr. Harris,” he says.  
  
“Stilinski.”  
  
“New kid.” He points to Xela. “Her name’s Xela.”  
  
Harris raises his eyebrow. “You and Hale have a lot of kids.”  
  
“I’ve, um, got to go. Bye, Xela! Take the bus home with Cora.” Stiles nearly runs back out to Adam. “Who’s your homeroom teacher?”  
  
Adam checks his schedule. “Ms. Fleming?”  
  
“Cool, yeah, I know her. She teaches math. C’mon.” Stiles leads him to the math wing and knocks lightly on the door before opening it. “Hello, Ms. Fleming.”  
  
“Stiles!” She stands and shakes his hand, grinning. “How are you, kid?”  
  
“Good, good. I have a new student for you. This is Adam. He and a few others are staying with Derek and me.” He puts a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “How’s, um…Anna?”  
  
“She’s great,” Ms. Fleming says. “Just started kindergarten. Hello, Adam. How are you?”  
  
“Good, ma’am,” Adam says. “Can I sit down?”  
  
“Go for it. Whose class are you in for math?”  
  
“Mr. Johnston’s,” Adam says.  
  
“Oh, trig or calc?” she asks, leaning against her desk.  
  
“Intro calc,” he says.  
  
“And you’re a junior?”  
  
He nods. “My family started me in algebra early.”  
  
She hums. “Impressive. Stiles, don’t you dare leave yet until you tell me more about your little ones.”  
  
He laughs. “Sorry, Ms. Fleming. Derek and I have six kids we adopted and seven that we have guardianship over - like, we’re not legally their parents. I homeschool one and the rest go to the Beacon Hills schools. The youngest is three and the oldest is Adam, who’s seventeen.” He shrugs. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get going. Have a good first day, Adam.”  
  
//  
  
“- and I have to make sure all these backorder charms get made, and we have, like, five orders of potions we’re behind on, and Miriam doesn’t want to -”  
  
Derek grabs him by the arms and kisses him. “Hey, calm down. Slow down, Stiles. It’s okay.”  
  
Stiles’s heart still beats too fast and he can feel it in his ears and he can’t seem to breathe right. He can feel Derek’s chest under him and his unnatural heat and hear the stutter of his own heart in his ears and why can’t he breath, goddamnit.  
  
“It’s alright, Stiles, breathe with me,” Derek says, breathing slowly and putting Stiles’s head to his chest. “Feel me breathe,” he continues, rubbing Stiles’s back.  
  
Stiles tries his best to match Derek’s breaths, and, soon, the combination of the breathing and Derek’s hands on his back and Derek’s voice in his ear calms him down. He doesn’t let go of Derek, though, clinging onto him and refusing to let go. Derek allows this, nuzzling into Stiles’s neck and pulling him onto his lap.  
  
“‘S okay,” Derek says quietly, contentedly. “Everything’s okay.”  
  
Stiles nods. “Thanks, Der.”  
  
“Of course, Stiles.” He pulls away a little, so they can see each other’s faces. “Mike is working on the charms now. Petey is making one of the potions you’re behind on. And I’ll talk to Miriam, okay?”  
  
Stiles nods. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Hey, it’s not your fault. It’s never your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay now.” Derek kisses his cheek.  
  
“Can you keep telling me things that are going well?” Stiles asks, ears flushing pink as he ducks his head.  
  
“Of course,” Derek says, and he does his low rumble-voice that he knows Stiles loves. “Adam’s little figurines are going to go on sale tomorrow. I think they’ll sell well. Everyone’s adjusted well. Isaac’s not having so many nightmares. Peter has made plans for the new house-thing for the teens. And, of course, you’re fucking fantastic and I love you.”  
  
Stiles relaxes into him completely. “Thanks again, Derek.”  
  
“Mhm,” Derek hums, arms coming to wrap around Stiles.  
  
“Derek?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I love you too,” Stiles says, nearly asleep.  
  
“Good.”  
  
//  
  
“I’m going to drive over to Danny’s,” Stiles says. “Mike, can you make sure Petey doesn’t burn the place down, and Petey, can you work on another one of the potions?”  
  
The two nod, and Stiles drops a kiss to Petey’s head. “I’ll be back by the time Lydia gets back from school, okay?”  
  
“See you, Babi,” Petey says, pulling out the worn recipe notebook the two made.  
  
Stiles smiles as he drives to Danny’s house. Stiles’s friend works weird hours, so it took Stiles a while to figure out when he could meet up with the dude.  
  
“Hey, Danny.”  
  
“Hey, Stiles. How’s everything?” Danny closes the door to his apartment.  
  
“Dude, it reeks of sex in here,” Stiles says. “Yuck.” Danny’s studio apartment is pretty open and airy, but the windows are all shut tightly and the grey bedclothes are kind of strewn everywhere.  
  
“I don’t smell it, dude.” Danny shrugs. “What’s up, man?”  
  
“I’m a mage, and you could become a witch if you trained with me.”  
  
Danny laughs. “Okay, what’s really going on?”  
  
Stiles blinks and then shakes his head. “No, really. And Derek’s a werewolf. And our kids are a mixture of humans, werewolves, a kanima, and a magic-user.”  
  
Danny crosses his arms. “Stiles, did you start new meds?”  
  
Stiles rolls his eyes and throws out a hand. Immediately the dishes in Danny’s sink are done and the bedsheets are changed to clean white ones. “Believe me now?”  
  
“Wow. Can you clean my bathroom?” Danny looks around and prods at the sheets. “And where are my grey sheets? I liked those.”  
  
“White looks better,” Stiles says. “And relax, they’re in your hamper. And no, I won’t clean your bathroom. And will you train with me?”  
  
Danny rubs a hand over his stubble. “Yeah, I guess. What does it entail?”  
  
“Well, um, you might have to change your hours,” Stiles says, scratching his head. “Or, um, quit your job. But you’ll be well-supported. You’ll contribute to the pack website and we’ll cover your expenses.”  
  
“The werewolf pack?” Danny narrows his eyes.  
  
“Well, it’s kind of, um, well, packs can hold any kind of person. So ours has wolves and magic users and humans and Jackson’s a kanima. So you down?”  
  
Danny shrugs. “I’m comfortable enough around your kids, and your dad loves me. Why not get closer to your family?”  
  
“You save someone from bullying once in high school,” Stiles mutters. “Anyway, I’ll text you more details and stuff.” He sniffs again and sees a little bit of glitter on the wall near the bed, right where someone might put their arm during sex. “Are you fucking Shaun Jameson?”  
  
Danny gives him a weird look. “How’d you know?”  
  
Stiles throws a window open with another wave of his arm. “He’s a member of the fae. He’s a fairy. I can smell their spunk. That’s why it smelled so bad to me. Also, there’s glitter on the wall, and only a fairy would wear so much glitter. They, like, shed it or some shit.” Stiles scratches his cheek. “He buys magic charms from us.”  
  
“Will I be able to smell his jizz if I train?”  
  
Stiles wrinkles his nose and opens more windows. “No, I’m a mage. You’re likely not powerful enough. And I can only smell other magic-users.” He frowns. “I wonder why I couldn’t smell you.”  
  
Danny shrugs and stretches, shirt riding up to reveal a small tattoo on his hip. “I dun-”  
  
Stiles grabs his pants and pulls them down enough to view the tattoo.  
  
“Um. Stiles?”  
  
“You have a rune locking your power. That’s why I never noticed,” Stiles says. “No worries. I can break it later.”  
  
“Stiles, you’re still holding my pants down,” Danny says drily.  
  
“Oh. Sorry, dude. Anyway, I’ll text you. I have to grocery shop and get home.” Stiles waves as he leaves.  
  
//  
  
“Stiles,” Derek says, shaking him. “Stiles.”  
  
Stiles sits up and rubs his eyes. “Hm?”  
  
“C’mon,” Derek says.  
  
“Why?” Stiles starts to lay back down.  
  
“Isaac,” Derek says wearily.  
  
Stiles sighs and takes Derek’s proffered hand. “Did you try?”  
  
“Mhm,” Derek says, opening the door to the stairs. “Won’t talk to anyone but you. I moved Scott into Erica and Ida’s room and Jackson into Boyd and Liam’s for tonight. They’re all sleeping again.”  
  
Stiles sighs and kisses Derek’s cheek. “Thanks for trying.”  
  
“Course,” Derek says. “Do you want me down there with you, or -”  
  
“Yeah, c’mon,” Stiles says, pulling him down to the second floor. “Even if I’m the only one that can calm him, it’ll be good to have your scent there.”  
  
Cora’s door is open and the teens are sort of walking around. “Again?” Cora asks, rubbing her eyes.  
  
“Sorry.” Derek itches the back of his neck. “We’ll, um, try to get him to sleep.”  
  
“How often does it happen?” Rye chews on her lip.  
  
“Too often,” Stiles says, walking into the room and holding his arms out for Isaac. “C’mere, bud. What happened?”  
  
“I had a bad dream,” he says, sniffling as he leaps into Stiles’s arms.  
  
Stiles loops Isaac’s arms around his neck and walks back out into the hallway, straight into Derek’s waiting arms. “Sh, sh,” Stiles murmurs to Isaac, he and Derek rocking lightly until Isaac’s head droops onto Stiles’s shoulder. They wait a couple more minutes before bringing him back to his bed and tucking him in.  
  
“I’m sorry he woke you, Cora,” Stiles mumbles, letting Derek’s shoulder take his weight.  
  
“‘S fine. G’night, Stiles, Der.” The door to her room closes.  
  
Stiles looks up at Derek. “Will you carry me?” he asks, giving Derek a stupid little smile.  
  
Derek huffs, but he smiles back and scoops Stiles up. “I was already mostly carrying you,” he says quietly, starting up the stairs.  
  
“Shuddup.”  
  
Derek drops a kiss to his head. “Always.”  
  
//  
  
Derek runs a hand through his hair and sets his book on the nightstand. “I heard an interesting conversation last night, when everyone was watching _The Phantom Menace_.”  
  
Stiles hums, not looking away from his laptop. “About?”  
“Stiles.”  
  
Stiles does one more thing and puts his laptop away. “Okay, sorry. What happened?”  
  
“When we were watching the Star Wars movie last night, I heard your dad and Rye talking.”  
  
“‘Bout what?”  
  
“Us.” When Stiles gives him a look, he continues, “I think Rye’s going through, y’know, teenage angsty stuff. Remember right when we first met? You pined after me for ages before I made a move because you didn’t think it was possible that you could have me.”  
  
“I did not _pine_ ,” Stiles says. “Anyway, what was Dad saying?”  
  
“That it wasn’t always this easy for us. It’s been, what, ten years since we met and like eight since we started dating? And even though I became an asshole after the whole thing with the Argents, you pushed through. But we had to fight for it to work.”  
  
Stiles hums. “Dude, you were emotionally constipated even before the Kate thing, but it wasn’t so bad before then. Dad’s right, it’s been a journey to get to this stage.”  
  
Derek laughs. “Shut up, Stiles.”  
  
“See, that. I don’t think I heard you laugh until a few months into our relationship,” Stiles says, poking Derek’s belly as he turns over to watch Derek from his stomach.  
  
“Hmm. No, I think I laughed that time you made elephant toothpaste in Harris’s class and he didn’t tell any of you it would expand so much, so you came over to watch my siblings and Peter’s kids covered in green and blue and pink goo because everyone backed up but you just kept watching like the idiot you are.”  
  
“The kids thought it was funny,” Stiles points out.  
  
“Of course they did. You looked like an idiot. God, Stiles, I thought you looked some combination of idiotic, hot, and extremely stupid.”  
  
“Idiotic and extremely stupid -”  
  
“Mean the same thing, I know, but I wanted to emphasize it, okay?” Derek runs a hand over Stiles’s bare shoulder and then back. “God, Stiles, I love you.”  
  
“Good,” Stiles says, grinning at him and winking. “Good night, Der.”  
  
Instead of kissing Stiles’s head, like he normally might, Derek shoots out of bed. “Isaac,” he grunts, grabbing Stiles’s hand and tugging him out of bed.  
  
“Jesus. He’s been doing so well. It’s been two weeks since the last one, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Derek says. “Go get him. I’ll calm the other kids down.”  
  
But when Derek opens the door to the second floor, all of the kids have gathered outside the boys’ room. Stiles wades through and retrieves Isaac, carrying him into the mob of his pack, who all offer comforting words and touches. Only Rye, Adam, and Xela hang back. Even Peter makes his way from the third floor to rub his hand down the backs of Isaac and Stiles’s necks.  
  
“Join the pack, cubs,” Peter purrs at the teenagers standing off to the side. “You are a part of it.”  
  
“Uncle Peter, be nice,” Petey says, rolling her eyes. “Papa?”  
  
“Yes,” Derek says, sighing. “Go get your pillows and blankets.”  
  
“I will have a place in your bed,” Peter says. “Not all of us are children or chronically young.”  
  
Derek laughs. “Sure, Peter.”  
  
“What are they talking about?” Rye asks in the chaos that erupts from Derek and Stiles permitting a pack sleepover.  
  
“We all get to sleep together,” Cora says, grinning and dragging the air mattress out from the closet. “Liam, if you want to sleep on this, get the pump from wherever you hid it!”  
  
He appears with it and hands it to her. “Want me to get your pillow?”  
  
“Yeah.” She starts carrying the air mattress up the stairs.  
  
Stiles carries Isaac up the stairs and sets him up next to their bed. “You gonna be okay?”  
  
He nods and nuzzles into Stiles’s pillow. Derek wordlessly hands him his blanket and then pulls Stiles back into the bed, letting the rest of the pack deal with where they’ll sleep. Peter slips in behind Stiles and tucks his head into Stiles’s back. Derek’s face is tucked into Stiles’s neck and their legs are tangled.  
  
//  
  
“Shit. Stiles!”  
  
Stiles shoots up, pulling Derek with him by extension and leaving Peter grumbling on the bed. “What happened?”  
  
“It’s nine! Mike and Danny are here!” Cora shows him her phone.  
  
Stiles groans and falls back against the bed. “Get everyone up. I’m going to start breakfast and call the school. Derek, you’re gonna need to drive a set of kids. I’m going to go ask my dad to take the high schoolers, and, if he can’t, I will.” He rushes down the stairs and throws some quick-oats into a pot with the rest of the last carton of milk, then another cup of water and brown sugar, almonds, and cinnamon and sets it to start cooking. He dials the school and prays the secretary hasn’t marked them with unexcused absences yet.  
  
“Hey, hello, yes. This is Stiles Stilinski-Hale.” He pauses and listens to her speak. “Yes, I’m so sorry. None of our alarms went off, and everyone slept in. We only just woke up. They’ll be in school as soon as possible. Thank you. I’m so sorry.” When he gets off of that call, he dials the number for the high school. “Hey, Eiji.”  
  
“Hey, Stiles. Did you see I called about Cora, Rye -”  
  
“Yeah, about that, Eiji, I’m so sorry. Is your mom there?” Stiles stirs the oatmeal and waves at Derek to come get bowls and stuff.  
  
“Yeah, hang on.” He puts Stiles on hold and then a moment later, his mother picks up on her line.  
  
“Stiles?”  
  
“Mrs. Akiyama, I’m sorry the kids aren’t in school. We had a few problems last night and had to move everyone into our room to get them to sleep and then our alarms didn’t go off, or we forgot to set them, or something. They’ll be in school as soon as we can get them there, but we have to feed them first.”  
  
“Of course,” she says. “Were these problems relating to Derek…?”  
  
“Sort of,” Stiles says. “Anyway, sorry again. I have to go make sure everyone gets ready and stuff.”  
  
“Of course,” she repeats, hanging up.  
  
Stiles sprints up to the second floor. “Jackson, did you finish your homework last night?”  
  
“Yeah, mostly,” he says.  
  
“Jackson, you were supposed to finish it before dinner. Papa _said_ ,” Erica says, arms crossed and smirking.  
  
“Tattletale,” Jackson mutters, glaring at the ground.  
  
“C’mon, kid, it’s not that hard,” Stiles says. “If you miss another homework night in the next two weeks, you lose movie and video game privileges.” He moves on to Isaac and Boyd, who are laughing about something but still in their pajama bottoms. “Boys, put jeans on, please,” he says, ruffling Isaac’s hair and dropping a kiss to Boyd’s head. “Erica, grab your backpack and go get breakfast from Papa,” he says. “Jackson, Miriam, you too.” He ducks into Liam’s room. “Liam, buddy, no time to be fiddling. Get ready and go downstairs.” Last stop is the teens’ room. “Guys, really, no time for this,” he says as he enters to Cora and Xela putting makeup on. “Leave that shit and go downstairs. Now.” They sigh and do as he says, and he closes the door as he leaves to make sure the rest of the kids get downstairs and grab Ida from the crib she was placed in this morning. “Petey, go get breakfast,” he adds to Petey and Miriam’s open door.  
  
“Wow, Stiles, sleep late?” Danny teases from the couch.  
  
“Nice, Danny, you’ve just won the grand prize of a diaper change!” Stiles says brightly, dropping the baby in his lap.  
  
He glares at Stiles and huffs, scooping her up and walking towards the closet where they keep extra diaper-changing supplies.  
  
“Kids, get ready to go to school with Papa. Leave your dishes in the sink. Whoever was on cleanup this morning can do them later.” Stiles looks to his dad. “Can you take Cora and Co?”  
  
The sheriff sighs and looks at his watch. “Yeah, but we have to leave now. I have a shift in fifteen minutes.”  
  
“Go, go,” Stiles says, grabbing the dishes from the teenagers.  
  
//  
  
“Alright, Danny, it’s oath day,” Stiles says. “Lydia should be here soon. Petey, do you have everything?”  
  
“Yup,” she says, grinning at Danny. “Afterwards we can show you pictures from my oath day and Mike’s oath day and Lydia’s oath day.”  
  
Mike chuckles. “She was mad for days after that.”  
  
“What is it?” Danny asks, frowning at Stiles.  
  
“You’ll see,” Stiles says.  
  
Mike fiddles with the charm in his hand. “Stiles, I’ve been meaning to show you this.” He hands the charm to Stiles and Stiles drops it before he can hold it for too long.  
  
“Why would you make this? How did you find out about this?” Stiles asks harshly. “Petey, stay away from it. Mike, do you know what this can do?”  
  
Mike shakes his head. “No, sorry, I found it in town. What…what can it do?”  
  
“It’s an extremely powerful and dangerous curse,” Stiles says, picking it up with his handkerchief and surrounding it with a protective layer of magic before slipping it into his pocket. “Mike, how much have you handled the curse?” he asks. “Has Lydia touched it?”  
  
“I only found it two days ago,” Mike says, “and no.”  
  
“Thank God,” Stiles says, rubbing his temples. “I’m going to take it to the fairy tomorrow and ask if he knows of its origins.”  
  
“Isn’t it just made by a charm-witch, like me?” Mike says.  
  
“No,” Stiles says, looking at it again. “It’s not. I’m hoping Shaun can tell me more.”  
  
“He’ll be at my house tonight, if you want to just come over,” Danny says. “Dude, the sex with him -”  
  
“Petey, cover your ears,” Stiles says drily.  
  
“- got so epic once he didn’t feel like he had to hold back or hide being a fae. And dude, he’s hot with his human charm, but without it, he’s insane. Like, hotter than Derek.” Danny sighs.  
  
“I’m glad you think _my_ husband is hot,” Stiles says, grinning. “Alright, there comes Lydia. Let’s head into the woods, guys.” He leads the way to their “ceremonial clearing,” which is really just one of the only close clearings, and takes the bag from Petey, who’s already giggling. “Hush, Petey. The oaths are serious.”  
  
She takes his hand. “Mhm.”  
  
Stiles sets up the pentagram and directs Danny to stand in the center. The rest hold hands around him and start the silvery-green fire when Stiles gives the word. The oaths go quickly, and then Stiles nods to Petey, who gets the cans from the bag and hands them out.  
  
“Alright, on three, coven,” Stiles says, grinning and brandishing the shaving cream like a bandit. “One, two, three!”  
  
They descend upon Danny with their cans of shaving cream and basically cover him in a mixture of shaving cream and dirt. Then Stiles pulls back and takes a picture.  
  
“See, it’s fun when it’s not you,” Petey says brightly to Lydia.  
  
Lydia arches an eyebrow. “Sure.”  
  
Petey sticks her tongue out at Lydia and grins. “I know you had fun.”  
  
She huffs and flips her hair over her shoulder. “You’re wrong.”  
  
Petey shrugs and runs towards the house, yelling, “Come and catch me, Jackson! I bet you can’t!”  
  
Stiles rolls his eyes. “Alright. Mike, have you been able to make any of that extreme-protection charm you’ve been working on?”  
  
Mike shakes his head slowly. “Sorry, Stiles. I…it hasn’t worked yet.”  
  
“That’s okay. Keep trying.” Stiles claps him on the shoulder. “Petey, come back here,” he calls.  
  
She comes running back towards them, Jackson on her tail.  
  
“Jackson, get lost for now.”  
  
Jackson pouts and crosses his arms. “Why?”  
  
“Magic.” Stiles makes a flicking motion. “Go.” Turning to Petey, he says, “Petey…”  
  
“What do you need me to do?” she asks, resigned. Even if she couldn’t read his emotions, Stiles knows she knows that tone of voice.  
  
He hands her a crumpled piece of paper. “Make the stuff on this list. I need to work with Lydia and Danny for a little while. Mike will be there, and Papa can supervise if you need him to.”  
  
“These aren't even potions! They're just stuff for the humans.”  
  
Stiles turns and kneels. “I know, and later, I'll take you to the wards and we can add some more, but for now, I need you to make these salves and creams. Please?”  
  
She huffs. “Fine.”  
  
Internally, Stiles pumps his fist. Externally, he hugs her and stands. “I'll see you soon, Petes, Mike.”  
  
“Stiles, what are we going to do today?” Lydia steps over a decomposing tree and, God, how can the kid be so dainty in the middle of the friggin’ forest? “Stiles?”  
  
“Oh, um, meditation and some control exercises,” Stiles says, bringing to them to a creek.  
  
Danny snorts and trips over a root, falling on his face. “Meditation? You?”  
  
“Serves you right,” Stiles says, offering a hand. “And meditation is important, Danny.”  
  
He rolls his eyes. “Hardy-ha-ha.”  
  
Stiles shrugs. “You'll see. The more you meditate, the easier you can find your spark. Petey, Mike, and I can find it in an instant. You two will learn to do the same.”  
  
Lydia sits beside the creek and crosses her legs, looking at Stiles expectantly. “What should I do?”  
  
Stiles waves a hand at her. “Wait a moment. I’m going to clean Danny off.” He turns towards the man still covered in shaving cream and dirt. “Stand by the creek.”  
“Dude, it’s freezing outside.” Danny crosses his arms.  
  
“Danny, chill. I’m not going to get you wet. I’m a friggin’ mage, remember?” Stiles closes his eyes and feels his connection with the water.  
  
“I dunno,” Danny says, and Stiles ignores him as he lifts it towards Danny. He soaks the mage and the quickly, completely dries him. “That got me wet!”  
  
“And now you’re dry,” Stiles says. “Sit down, you big baby.”  
  
Danny sneers at him but sits like he was told.  
  
“Stiles?” Lydia asks.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Do we have to get tattoos like you and Dad?”  
  
Stiles glances down at his arms, having forgotten he’d pushed his sleeves up. “Um, Mike and I have different kinds of tattoos for different reasons. He has tattoos, I think, to help him reach his magic more thoroughly, even if it makes him tired. They also boost his magic. I have three different kinds of tattoos on my body: ones that mark me as the emissary and hook me in with the pack magic, ones to boost my elemental or earth magic, and ones Derek wanted me to get as protection runes. And, of course, there’s Derek’s triskele on my left pectoral.” _Over my heart_ , he doesn’t say.  
  
“So…”  
  
“So no, you don’t have to get them. It’s your choice. We told Petey she could elect to do it when she turns sixteen.”  
  
“How many tattoos do you have, Stiles?” Danny asks.  
  
Stiles pulls off his jacket and then shirt. “A lot. There are more, too.”  
  
“But Stiles, the legal age to get a tattoo in California is eighteen. How can Petey get them if she’ll be sixteen?” Lydia frowns at him.  
  
“We don’t go to normal tattoo parlors,” Stiles says through a laugh. “We have to use special ink and stuff, and tattoo parlors don’t let you bring your own ink.”  
  
“Oh.” Lydia sits straight again. “We should begin our meditation.”  
  
Stiles pulls his clothing back on. “Yes.” Danny’s eyes are still fixed on where the tattoos lay. “Hey, eyes up here, Danny boy.”  
  
Danny scowls at him. “I wasn't -”  
  
“Mhm,” Stiles says gleefully. “Alright, kids, let's meditate.”  
  
//  
  
“So you showed Lydia your tattoos,” Mike says, frowning as he adds another line to the charm. “She's bugging me about what kind she can get now and when she can get them.”  
  
Stiles wiggles his eyebrows. “She asked.” He holds his hand out for the charm. “Give it here. Der?”  
  
“I don't like this,” the wolf says, crossing his arms.  
  
“The part where you attack me or the part where you get hurt for attacking me?” Stiles slips the amulet on and tucks it under his shirt.  
  
“Both,” Derek grits out.  
  
“Come on, sourwolf,” Stiles says easily, holding his arms out. “I can take it.”  
  
“Wait, so...what exactly does this do to Derek?” Danny asks, leaning against the porch and crossing his arms.  
  
“Anything he does to me happens to him, but twice as hard,” Stiles says. “Hopefully.”  
  
Derek winces. “I don't like the sound of that, Stiles. I don’t want to hit -”  
  
“Derek, come on,” Stiles says, voice changing. “Now.”  
  
Derek swallows and comes towards Stiles, who makes no move to defend himself. The wolf whines slightly and hits him lightly. The charm does nothing, even though it pulses.  
  
“Actually hit me,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes.  
  
Derek closes his eyes and drives his fist into Stiles’s ribcage.  
  
Stiles jerks back and wheezes.  
  
Derek falls over from the force of the magical hit.  
  
Then he stand up quickly and looks around, scowling. He comes over to Stiles and slides a hand to where he hit the mage and sucks the last of the pain.  
  
“Thanks, Der, but I'm fine,” Stiles says drily, grabbing Derek’s hand and holding it in his own. He takes off the charm with the other and hands it back to Mike. “This works great. Keep making them.”  
  
“Just these?”  
  
“No, make them in addition to the other ones you make for the site,” Stiles says, fiddling with the dark charm in his pocket. “Danny, is Shaun free right now?”  
  
“Yeah,” Danny says. “I invited him over, remember?”  
  
“Yes,” Stiles murmurs, frowning. “When will he be here?”  
  
“Like fifteen minutes,” Danny says.  
  
Derek’s hand moves to the back of Stiles's neck and takes the blooming headache. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asks quietly.  
  
“Thanks,” Stiles says, squeezing his hand.  
  
//  
  
“So you don’t know anything about it?” Stiles says.  
  
“Nothing more than you,” Shaun says, frowning at the piece of metal. “It’s…all of it’s strange, almost unnatural.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Stiles says, frowning. “The magic feels weird.”  
  
“Have you taken it to the Sukkalgir clan?” Shaun sips from the cup of coffee Derek gave him.  
  
Stiles shakes his head. “I was hoping it was something from one of the dark fae,” he admits. “I could deal with that easily.”  
  
Shaun shakes his head and conjures up an image in his palm, showing it to Stiles. “The charms of the unseelie fae are made of mahogany, maybe mesquite or blackwood, too. I’ve never seen anything made of metal from any fairy.”  
  
Stiles frowns. “And as it hasn’t killed yet, Derek and I have no reason to worry, but a charm of this nature - especially one left on the ground - makes me nervous.”  
  
“Understandable,” Shaun says. “Maybe Sukkalgir knows more than me, though. She’s old, older than even my queen.”  
  
“I’ll take it there tonight,” Stiles says.  
  
“Sorry,” Shaun says as he stands. “Thanks for the coffee and for clueing Danny in.”  
  
“Ew. Please don't submit me to more tales of your sexcapades,” Stiles says, shuddering. “If I wanted to hear about gay sex, I would go climb on top of Derek and -”  
  
“Ew, I don't want to hear about you and my brother,” Cora says, coming into the room with Adam and Xela in tow.  
  
“Sorry,” Stiles says. “Shaun, I'll see you soon, okay?” he adds as the fairy walks towards the door.  
  
“Yep,” Shaun calls back. “And tell that scrumptious piece of ass you call De-”  
  
“LALALALALALALA,” Cora yells pointedly.  
  
Stiles laughs. “What's up, Cora? Where's Rye?”  
  
“At a friend’s,” Cora says. “She's really into the GSA and stuff.”  
  
“And you're not?” Stiles says, draining his fresh coffee cup in one go.  
  
Cora shrugs. “Honestly, I don't really need the extra attention. Our family’s insane and huge and crazy, and I never really had the time or desire to have friends before Adam and Xela. Rye’s nice, but I - you know how it is, Stiles.”  
  
Stiles pulls her into a hug. “I'm glad you found friends, Cora, and if what Rye needed was a chance to not be pack, I'm glad that she got the chance, too.”  
  
Cora nuzzles into the hug. “Oh, yeah, I came to ask for twenty bucks to order a pizza.”  
  
“Go somewhere else to eat it, or every kid in this goddamn insane asylum will be begging Der and I for pizza,” Stiles says, handing her a twenty.  
  
“Sure thing, Stiles,” she says, tucking it into her back pocket. “Thanks!”  
  
//  
  
“Only a week until winter break,” Derek comments over dinner as he sips a beer.  
  
The kids all go silent immediately.  
  
“And?”  
  
“Peter, have you finished the plans yet?” Derek asks.  
  
“Yeah, here you go. The ones on top are for the dorms and the ones on the bottom are for the guest house,” Peter says, handing them to Stiles, who leans over so he and Derek can both read them.  
  
“Are any Sukkalgir vampires coming to help?” the sheriff asks.  
  
“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Sukkalgir is coming, too, to look at the charm with me.”  
  
Derek hums. “Peter, this dorm has eight rooms in it. That's twice the number we need.”  
  
“Twelve, if you count the bathrooms, den, and kitchenette,” Peter says. “And Derek, with the rate this pack has grown at, I would be unsurprised to find we will need the extra rooms in two years. I'm just thinking ahead, really.”  
  
“In two years, the teens will be college-age,” Stiles points out.  
  
“And I bet by then you'll have replaced them with infants,” Peter says, sniffing.  
  
“Thank you, Uncle Peter,” Derek says, still looking them over. “I’ll get the necessary supplies delivered and or collected.”  
  
“Oh no,” Cora says. “You’re not going to -”  
  
“Yup,” Derek says. “Kids, this weekend will be lumber weekend. And then when school gets out on Thursday, we’ll start the building.”  
  
The kids look around, meeting eyes and frowning. “Do we have to?”  
  
“I’ll be taking care of the kiddos under seven,” the sheriff says. “Stiles says I’m getting ‘too old’ to be ‘breaking my back building houses.’ I don’t see why Peter can and I can’t.” He scoffs and grins at Peter.  
  
“I wanna help!” Scott immediately cries.  
  
“Scott, you’re going to be in the way, just like me and Isaac,” Boyd says matter-of-factly. “Papa and Babi and the bigger kids should do it.”  
  
Scott pouts. “But -”  
  
“No.” Derek’s eyes flash red, and that’s it. No one at the table voices any more concerns. “Good. Now for the building part, that will just be the teens, the vampires, Peter, Stiles, Danny, and myself. Actually, Rye, if you’d rather -”  
  
“I don’t want to do anything but what Cora and Adam and Xela do,” Rye says quickly, frowning.  
  
“Right. Sorry.” Derek clears his throat. “Um, anyway, Aleksy will watch the kids with Miriam and Liam to help him. And I expect full maturity from all of you. Don’t make things too hard for your grandpa.”  
  
“Can we pick our decorations and paint and stuff?” Cora asks.  
  
“The rooms will all be painted the same color,” Stiles says quickly. “And the beds will be the same beds that can bunk or be alone, and the sheets and blankets will be the same ones as pack. The desks will be built into the walls and collapsible, because the rooms won’t be big. But aside from that, it’s up to you.”  
  
“Who gets Cora’s room?” Liam asks, rubbing his hands together and grinning at Derek.  
  
“Miriam,” Derek says. “She’s next oldest.”  
  
Liam huffs and slouches. “So I’m still with Boyd?”  
  
Stiles shrugs. “We could room you with Ida or Jackson, instead, if you’d like. Erica will be moving in with Petey.”  
  
“We’ll figure out rooms later,” Derek says, putting a hand over Stiles’s. “Dishes?”  
  
//  
  
“Stiles,” Sukkalgir says, folding him into her arms.  
  
Despite the treaty, Derek apparently can’t contain the growl that escapes his lips at his natural enemy hugging his mate.  
  
But Sukkalgir just laughs and says, “Oh, Derek, it’s always a pleasure to see you.”  
  
“Sukkalgir, you don’t look a day over twenty-five,” he quips back, taking Stiles’s hand.  
  
“We added eight more to the bunch since you last saw us,” Stiles says. “Our pack now includes Erica, Boyd, Scott, Isaac, Ida, Adam, Rye, and Xela.”  
  
Miriam sprints out of the house and hugs Iahmesu, a vampire she’s adored since she met him on one of her first days here. “Iah! I didn’t know you were coming.”  
  
“I asked Stiles to keep it a secret,” he says, winking at her. He boosts her up onto his hip easily. “My, kid, you’ve grown. It’s only been a year and a half!”  
  
“It was a long time,” Miriam says, scowling at him as the two walk into the woods to talk.  
  
One of the vampires stares at the two going off into the woods and then stares at Derek, and Stiles, and the werewolves piling out of the house. The vampire sticks a piece of long, shiny, black hair into their mouth.  
  
Derek raises an eyebrow at Sukkalgir.  
  
“Derek, Stiles, this is the newest member of our clan,” Sukkalgir. “Hale pack, meet Angela.”  
  
“Just how…new is Angela?” Derek asks, shifting as though to shield Stiles.  
  
Stiles shoves him from in front of the mage.  
  
“Angela was turned eight months ago,” Sukkalgir says pleasantly. “She’s entirely in control, so you have no need to worry for your mate, Derek. I believe she’s simply never seen vampires and werewolves together, or, honestly, so many werewolf children.”  
  
“Babi,” Petey says, tugging on Stiles’s shirt. “Ida’s crying in the playroom.”  
  
“Excuse me for a minute,” Stiles says, following Petey inside and picking up the screaming toddler. When he tries to take her outside, she starts screaming even harder and claws go a-flying, scratching Stiles's back up pretty badly. “Ida? What’s wrong?”  
  
Derek is at Stiles’s side instantly, and he takes Ida from Stiles. “Calm down,” he says in his alpha-voice.  
  
The fangs and claws go away, but she still whimpers into her alpha’s neck.  
  
“Where's Isaac?” Stiles asks suddenly, turning to Petey.  
  
“I dunno.” She shrinks. “I'm sorry, Babi.”  
  
“No, it's okay,” Stiles says. “Derek, where is he?”  
  
“His room,” Derek says after inhaling deeply. “Crying, too.”  
  
Stiles runs up the stairs and collects the pup from his bed. “Sh, sh, Isaac. Why are you and Ida crying?”  
  
“The vampires,” Isaac hiccups. “Our dad said they would torture us and drink our blood and kill us by putting their venom in our bodies and if we had some sense in our stupid little heads we should stay away from them.”  
  
Stiles slowly walks Isaac down the stairs. “Sukkalgir’s vampires aren't like that,” he says, handing Isaac to Derek. “They don't drink human blood, just deer blood.”  
  
“But werewolves aren't human,” Isaac says.  
  
“Your blood doesn't taste very good to us, little one,” Sukkalgir says, approaching slowly. “Look, your father has his blood on his shirt. No one is going after him, and they're not going to. And none of my vampires are going to hurt anyone.”  
  
“Stiles?” Cora says, bursting from the trees. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah, why?” Stiles says, frowning.  
  
Derek makes a sort of mumble sound.  
  
“What?” Stiles says.  
  
“I, um, was on high alert from the smell of the vampires and then I smelled your blood and kind of freaked out and I think Cora might have gotten some of that through the bonds,” Derek says sheepishly. “I, uh, sorry.”  
  
Cora sniffs the air. “What happened, anyway?”  
  
“Ida wolfed out while Stiles was holding her,” Derek says. “It was in response to the vampires, because of Lahey.”  
  
Cora huffs in disgust and shakes her head. “God, Derek, that alpha’s a piece of shit.”  
  
“He killed my brother,” Angela says.  
  
“That was your brother?” Isaac asks, staring at the vampire in horror.  
  
“My brother was turned two months before me,” Angela says to Derek and Stiles. “And Lahey tore him apart with his teeth after cutting his head off.”  
  
Stiles gasps. “What? How -”  
  
“It was Lahey, Stiles,” Derek says. “What would you expect?”  
  
“I was there,” Isaac says quietly. “He said it was the vampire’s fault for being that way and that he was doing it a favor.”  
  
Stiles runs a hand down the back of Isaac’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he says, not to anyone in particular.  
  
//  
  
“Hmm,” Sukkalgir says, turning the charm over.  
  
“Well, have you seen it?” Stiles asks, leaning his elbows on his knees.  
  
Sukkalgir hums again. “Not recently.”  
  
“What does that mean?” Stiles waves his hand and locks the front door so the children have to stay outside.  
  
“This isn’t the exact one I’ve seen, but it’s similar to those of a dark mage I saw a long time ago. I believe it was in the one thousands.” She hands it back. “He wasn’t a necromancer, but it’s not impossible that a necromancer brought him back from the dead.”  
  
“Exactly how dark?” Stiles asks, heart already sinking.  
  
“He started the dark ages,” Sukkalgir offers, standing. “Look, Stiles, you might honestly be better leaving this magic-user alone.”  
  
Stiles grimaces. “We can’t.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“We’re waging war soon. Well, technically we aren’t, but we’ll have to fight in it.” Stiles scratches the back of his neck.  
  
“The treaty with the Reed pack is also a deal for revenge against the Lahey pack, isn’t it?” Sukkalgir says, still fingering the charm.  
  
“Justice,” Stiles says, “but yes. And it’s more than that, I think, for Derek and Kessa. The Lahey pack is dark, and it makes werewolves look bad, when really they’re not all that different from humans.”  
  
Sukkalgir hums. “Alright. Would you like any vampiric assistance in your fights?”  
  
Stiles shakes his head. “This isn’t your fight, and I don’t want to put your clan in danger of vengeful werewolves.”  
  
“If you change your mind,” she says, “we’re always here.”  
  
“Thank you.” Stiles stands. “Ready to go build?”  
  
“Always up for a challenge,” she says, grinning.  
  
//  
  
“Ugh, I’m so cold,” Stiles says to Derek, flopping on top of him. “Isaac woken up yet?” he adds, pushing up off of Derek’s chest just a bit.  
  
“You wouldn’t be cold if you’re bundled up properly,” Derek says, “and no, he hasn’t. Yet. But with the vampires here this week, it wouldn’t shock me if he does soon.”  
  
Stiles sighs. “Well, for now, I can strip to my boxers and you can warm me up with your freaky werewolf superheating body.”  
  
Derek laughs and pulls most of his clothing off, too. “Glad to know you think my body is freaky,” he says, pulling Stiles back on top of him and the blanket over the two of them. “Are you going to add more tattoos?”  
  
Stiles shrugs. “Maybe. If Danny plans on doing them, I can just do his and some more on myself in the same go.”  
  
“I have a question,” Derek says.  
  
“Shoot.”  
  
“If you did tattoos in circles with mountain ash in the ink, would it block a werewolf from breaking the skin of that area?” Derek traces Stiles’s heart on his back.  
  
“It might also block you from touching the skin at all,” Stiles says. “And as much as I’d love the added protection, Der, I love sex with you more.”  
  
Derek chuckles, even though his fingers still trace where Stiles’s heart beats. “Could you try it? Like test it somewhere that doesn’t matter? Like your ankle or something?”  
  
“Maybe,” Stiles says. “Isaac up yet?”  
  
“Yeah,” Derek says, offering a hand as he gets up.  
  
“I wonder if it’ll stop.”  
  
Derek shrugs. “And I wonder if Ida’ll ever speak. At the very least, they need time.”  
  
Stiles sighs. “Yeah, I know.”  
  
“No sleepovers tonight,” Derek says. “You’re too tired.”  
  
Stiles shrugs but doesn’t argue as he enters Isaac’s room. The cries are already quieting - and they were even before he was in the room. He sees Scott in Isaac’s bed and smiles. Isaac clings to the toddler. It only takes Stiles a few murmured words and a couple strokes of his head to calm the kid completely, and then he and Derek go back upstairs and collapse on the bed together.  
  
“This pattern is getting old,” Derek says, mouth pressing into Stiles’s shoulder.  
  
“I think Scott’s breaking it,” Stiles says, adjusting his pillow. “G’night.”  
  
//  
  
Rye sticks closely with the vampires, Angela in particular. Stiles notices sometimes that she watches them even when they don’t know, or at least they ignore it.  
  
  
One time, Stiles catches her grilling Angela about vampiric mythology and how she was turned and what it feels like to be a vampire.  
  
“Whoa,” he says, catching Angela’s slightly overwhelmed glance. “Rye, maybe you should talk to Sukkalgir about this. Angela is a new vampire. It’s like talking to Ida about being a werewolf instead of Peter.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure that was offensive to everyone you named,” Derek comments, dropping a kiss to Stiles’s head.  
  
“Oh, shut up,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, Rye, talk to Sukkalgir.” He winks. “She doesn’t bite.”  
  
“That was a terrible joke,” Derek informs him. “But Rye, Stiles is right. Don’t pester Angela for information she might not have.” With that, he grabs Stiles by the shoulders of his shirt and hauls him off.  
  
//  
  
Since the vampires don’t sleep, it only takes the group eight days (and nights, for the vampires) to build, paint, and move furniture into the two new buildings. The thing that takes the longest is pouring the concrete, and the witches and Stiles speed that up with fire and sun spells to dry it quicker.  
  
“Nice,” Adam says as he goes inside the dorm. "Oh, I want this one!"  
  
“Dibs on this one!” Cora calls from somewhere on the second floor.  
  
“I want the one by the stairs,” Rye says, taking it with a grin.  
  
“I’ll take the one next to the bathroom,” Xela says easily, flipping her hair over her shoulder.  
  
“It’s all settled, then,” Stiles says, pleased. “Everyone, come say thank you to the vampires.”  
  
One by one, the kids say thank you to the vampires. Even Isaac carries Ida up to say a hurried thank you. Ida doesn’t say anything, thumb tucked firmly into mouth.  
  
Sukkalgir comes over to Derek and Stiles and motions for Stiles to put the spell up.  
  
“Thank you for helping us,” Stiles says.  
  
“Of course. We benefit greatly from our treaty, and helping you build is honestly a joy. My vampires look forward to the challenge.” Sukkalgir shifts a bag to her other shoulder.  
  
Stiles hands her a plastic bag full of charms. “Speaking of the treaty, Mike made these for you. If there’s any you don’t want or need, you can always send them back and ask for different ones.”  
  
“Thank you, Stiles.” Sukkalgir looks around, gaze finally settling on Rye. “One of your humans asked me for the bite.”  
  
Derek crosses his arms, eyebrows drawn low over his eyes. “Rye?”  
  
“Yes.” Sukkalgir frowns. “I said no, but she was very insistent that that was what she wanted.”  
  
Stiles meets Derek’s eyes. “I’m not all that surprised.”  
  
“Me neither,” Derek says. He turns back to Sukkalgir. “Given the…political…nature of Cora’s mates, it’s important Rye stays with us…for now. In a little while, if she still wants it and you think she’s a good candidate, we would…consider it.”  
  
Stiles chokes back a laugh.  
  
Sukkalgir doesn’t hold back. “Saying that killed you, didn’t it, Derek?” she says, laughing throughout.  
  
“Yeah,” Derek mutters. “But not because I don’t like you or your clan, because I really do. It’s just…my instincts.”  
  
Sukkalgir pats Derek’s arm. “It’s entirely fine, Derek. And I understand. I am the only one that gives the bite in my clan, and I will not do it without your permission.”  
  
“Thank you,” Derek says, relief evident. “And thank you for telling us.”  
  
“Of course. She is still underage, anyway, and as such it is against our laws to turn her.”  
  
Stiles cocks his head. “How old do they have to be?”  
  
“Well, it depends. Eighteen is usually the age, but if a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old showed significant maturity - and had some sort of permission, either from a parent or guardian or something, I don’t know, I’ve never turned anyone younger than nineteen - they might be considered. A life of immortality is a big decision. The vampire council does not take it lightly.” Sukkalgir glances at the gathering of vampires. “My vampires would like to get home and see the rest of the family. See you soon, boys.”  
  
“Thanks,” Stiles calls after her again, cutting the spell. He turns to Derek. “Do we need to talk to Rye now?”  
  
“I can do it.” Derek kisses his head. “Go work on magic with the witchlets.”  
  
//  
  
Stiles is rather glad they built the guest house, because just a week after they finish it, Kessa emails and asks if she can bring a few people to join them for the full moon the next week. Stiles, of course, agrees.  
  
“Miriam, can you go open the windows in the guest house?” Stiles asks.  
  
She gets up from her homework, leaning over to write something. “Yeah, sure.”  
  
“Thanks, hon.” Stiles leans over Jackson’s shoulder. “How’s your homework going, bud?”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Stiles raises an eyebrow and takes the sheet from him, holding him down by a shoulder with his other hand. “This doesn’t look very done.”  
  
“Can’t someone do it for me? I wanna play with Petey. She doesn’t even have to go to school,” Jackson whines.  
  
“Do your homework, Jackson, or you won’t leave this room until bedtime,” Stiles says, handing the work back.  
  
“So?”  
  
Stiles cocks his head, daring Jackson to play games with him. “Do your homework, Jackson, or Derek will cage you on the moon.”  
  
Jackson looks down at the work. “Okay, fine.”  
  
“Good talk,” Stiles says, squeezing his shoulder. He wanders over to Boyd. “How’s that spelling going, Boyd?”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Stiles nods and chuckles. “Come give me a hug.” He holds out his arms, and Boyd clambers into the hug.  
  
“PAPA!”  
  
Stiles nearly drops Boyd. That’s Miriam, and if she’s shouting for Derek, it could be bad. Stiles sets Boyd down and locks the kids inside the study room, running into Derek at the door. Derek barely pauses, gathering Stiles up and running outside.  
  
Miriam quivers on the ground. The acrid stench of blood, strong even to Stiles’s human nose, surrounds her.  
  
Or, rather, it surrounds them.  
  
“Papa,” she sobs, running into Derek’s arms. He holds her, staring numbly at it. “Papa, it wasn’t me. I was opening the windows in the guest room like Babi said, and then I just - when I was walking back - it just…”  
  
“This was magic,” Stiles says, trying to quench the nausea bubbling up. “I - God, Derek.”  
  
Just then, the sheriff’s car pulled up. He steps out and waves to Stiles. “Hi - holy - what the hell happened, Stiles?”  
  
“We don’t know,” Stiles says faintly.  
  
“Should I call it in?”  
  
“No,” Derek says, setting Miriam down. “No. This is a werewolf.”  
  
“Take Miriam inside, Dad,” Stiles says, still feeling like he’s going to puke.  
  
“I - okay.” The sheriff gathers the girl up off the ground and carries her inside.  
  
“Puke if you need to, Stiles,” Derek says, wound so tightly Stiles is surprised something hasn’t burst him yet.  
  
Stiles swallows. “No. I’m fine.” He looks around the sort of grisly scene. The body is too mutilated to identify, which Stiles guesses is good. Blood seeps into the ground. Steam rises lightly off of the body, so it’s probably a fresh kill. “Oh, God, I might puke,” Stiles says.  
  
“It’s a Lahey wolf,” Derek says, clamping his fingers over his nose.  
  
Stiles swallows. “What do we do with it?”  
  
“We get as much information from it as we can and we bury it.” Derek looks more intently at the body. “There’s something in that wound in the chest.”  
  
Stiles waves his hand and the small piece of metal hovers. “It’s a charm. I’ll see what type later.”  
  
“Go inside, Stiles. I’ll…do the rest.”  
  
“I love you,” Stiles says, dropping a kiss to Derek’s head. He offers Derek gloves he procured from the gardening shed.  
  
“I’m protecting my mate,” Derek mutters as he takes the gloves and pulls them on. “I’m protecting _Stiles_.”  
  
Stiles heads towards the house. He’s usually not queasy like this, and neither is Derek.  
  
But that body…that person…it was gruesome.

  



	5. Chapter 5

“Alpha Hale,” Kessa says, dipping her head just slightly.

“Alpha Reed,” Derek says, affording her the same respect. “It’s good to have you. I can show you to the guest house, if you’d like. We took a page out of your book when building it.”

“Is Stiles okay?” she asks, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Derek glances at his mate. “He’s…it’s been a hard week.”

“I’m fine,” Stiles says, rubbing his eyes. “I’m alright. Let’s go.”

Derek leans his forehead against Stiles’s. “Go take a nap. I can get them settled in.”

“No, I can’t - not - later,” Stiles says.

“What died here?” Kessa says as they pass the spot where they discovered the body.

Stiles’s hand finds Derek’s on instinct. “We found a member of the Lahey pack murdered on our property,” Derek says tightly. “It was done by magic.”

Kessa frowns. “Did you tell Lahey?”

“Of course. He didn’t care. We buried it just outside our land.” Derek swallows. “Miriam found it.”

Kessa’s gaze softens. “Is she okay?”

“More or less.” Derek opens the door to the guest house. “Our apologies if it still smells like paint. We did our best to air it out.”

“It’s quite alright.” She touches Stiles’s shoulder. “You look tired, Stiles. You should nap.”

“Yeah,” Stiles murmurs. “That.”

Derek chuckles at his mate. “I’ll get him to our room,” he says to Kessa. “Peter’s making dinner tonight. It should be ready by six-thirty. Bring your pack to the big house.”

“Sure,” Kessa says, and then Derek boosts Stiles into his arms and carries him to their bedroom.

//

Stiles panics for a second when he wakes up and Derek isn’t immediately within his reach [read: curled up around him], but the wolf reaches over calmly and runs a hand over Stiles’s back. 

“Sorry,” Stiles says. He lets his head fall back 

“‘S fine,” Derek says. “I’m just working on the website. There’s some weird bug on it. It keeps redirecting to a youtube video of a cat meowing. It’s weird.”

Stiles laughs, letting Derek continue to rub his back and neck with one arm. “Ask Danny. Honestly, that seems like the sort of thing he’d do.”

“Are you okay?” Derek asks.

“Enough,” Stiles answers, standing. “I should go check on dinner and the Reed pack.”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

Derek smiles at him. “I love you.”

“You too.” Stiles leaves, shutting the door behind him softly.

//

“I got the email back from Sukkalgir today,” Stiles says to Derek. “About the most recent charm. She thinks it’s from the same sorcerer.”

Derek nods slowly. “Does she have any more information for us?”

“She sent a picture of a page from an old book detailing the workings of this sorcerer,” Stiles says, glancing at Kessa, Ed, and Michelle.

“Would you explain the entire situation to us?” Michelle asks.

“Yes,” Derek says. “Stiles, perhaps the den would be better for this?”

Stiles nods and stands. “Peter’s at work,” he says, opening the door and sitting on the brown corduroy couch. Derek joins him, curling around his mate.

The three Reed wolves curl up on the green tweed couch, all looking at Stiles and Derek.

Stiles sighs and puts soundproofing up. “I should preface this by saying we don’t have a lot of information,” he says. “I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t right now.” Stiles conjures an image of the two charms they’ve found. “One of my witches-in-training found one of these in Beacon Hills. I’ve been studying it, trying to discover its origins, its maker, stuff like that. The other one, a more…I don’t know, violent? spell was what killed the Lahey pack member that appeared on our territory. Sukkalgir, the vampire we share a border with, has told us she recognizes the making of the curses as something made by a particular sorcerer, one she knows only as Geoffrey the Cutter. Apparently he was known to torture people by creating a charm that he could easily slip onto their personage and use to get information from them. That charm is similar to the one that killed the victim we found. Now, obviously, he died, like, a thousand years ago, but I’m told that there’s a spell in which a very, very powerful necromancer could bring a sorcerer like this back in order to steal his power and then kill him again. Of course, the borrowed power would be hard to use and extremely exhausting. That’s how it is when you use magic that’s not yours.” Stiles frowns. “What we don’t know is why he left a dead member of the Lahey pack on our lawn.”

“Perhaps he thinks to please you,” Kessa says.

Derek frowns. “I don’t know. How would he know we plan on fighting Lahey? And why would this person please us with a dead body?”

“One less Lahey,” Ed points out.

Stiles runs his fingers through Derek’s black hair. “Regardless of whether or not it’s useful, a good question is why the sorcerer did it.” He frowns. “And what coven trained this sorcerer. Most covens brag about having necromancers as powerful as this one would have to be.” He turns to Michelle. “Has your coven heard anything?”

She shakes her head. “I only came into power as the mage recently. My mother was mage and emissary before me. We’ve never had even a weak necromancer.”

“Which means they’re either foreign or were taught to hide their power,” Stiles muses.

“Much like your little necromancer,” Michelle says gently.

“She’s not a necromancer,” Stiles says irritably. “She’s…something else. She can see death, and she can see ghosts, but she can’t raise the dead. She just has…death magic.” He adds another glower at Michelle. “And that’s not common knowledge as of yet. She’s not even nine.”

Michelle shrugs, unperturbed. “You know what I mean.”

“My question is what he has against Lahey,” Kessa says after a moment.

Ed gets a calculating look. “Isaac’s, what, six? He might know, right?”

Derek and Stiles share a look. “I don’t know,” Stiles says slowly. “Isaac’s… He’s -”

“Isaac has been hurt,” Derek says firmly.

“Try,” Ed urges.

“Ed,” Kessa says, but it’s not so much a reprimand as it is her placating Stiles and Derek.

Derek frowns and crosses his arms. “Even if Isaac can give us a name, or a face, or something, how do we know if he’s right? Or who this person is, if they’re not in the system?”

“I could talk to my dad,” Stiles says. “But I’m not sure I like the idea of using Isaac to find things out. It feels morally…weird.”

“And how does not knowing if this necromancer is going to turn on other people and not doing anything about it moral?” Ed points out.

“ _Ed_.”

“He’s not wrong,” Derek says gruffly. “But I still don’t like it.”

“We can do it,” Stiles says, rubbing his eyes. “God, I’m a monster.”

“No, you’re responsible for thirteen kids,” Derek says. “But for now - Kessa, Ed, Michelle, would you like a tour? Stiles has to work with his coven.”

“Could I join Stiles and his coven?” Michelle asks. “I’m curious.”

Derek looks to Stiles, who nods. “Yes, of course. Today is an earth magic day. It’s my specialty, but we only focus on it twice or three times a month. Mostly it’s magic basics and the magics of my coven.”

Michelle brightens. “I love earth magic! Personally, I have alchemy powers, but earth magic is so much fun. I used to wish I had it instead of my powers.”

“Alchemy is so cool, though!” Stiles protests. “You can do, like, anything.”

She shakes her head. “Agree to disagree, then. So what types of magic does your coven have?”

Stiles opens the main door, leading her towards the clearing in their woods where the coven will meet for today’s lessons. Stiles loves the weekend. Everyone can meet during the day, and everyone’s relaxed. “Well, Petey’s an empath, Mike makes charms, Lydia has her death magic, and Danny - our newest addition - hasn’t settled yet, I guess. I had to break a rune that had been placed into his skin long ago to unleash any power.” Stiles frowns. “Oh, and Petey also shows some capacity for negating powers, but only when she’s really mad.”

Michelle nods slowly. “If you want,” she offers, “we could work on alchemy today, too. It might be useful for your coven.”

Stiles nods. “Thank you. That would make my coven happy, I think. They enjoy earth magic, but not so much as me.”

“Babi!” Petey rushes out of the clearing to hug Stiles tightly. “Everyone’s here. We waited really patiently.”

Stiles laughs and puts a hand on her back to guide her back into the circle of firs. “Coven, this is Michelle, a visiting mage and emissary of the Reed pack. She wanted to join in on our practice time today. Michelle, this is Petey, Mike, Lydia, and Danny.”

She sniffs. “He smells like fairy.”

“Why does everyone keep pointing that out?” Danny asks, shaking his head. “My boyfriend is a fairy,” he adds to Michelle.

“It reeks,” she informs him. “Why didn’t you just ask Mike for a charm to cover the scent? I don’t know how the wolves - and Stiles - are around you so often.”

Danny scowls and leans back, and Stiles shrugs. “You get used to it. Alright, witchlets, we’ll start this lesson the same way we always do.”

Danny stands and walks to sit in front of Stiles, who has his hands out in a cup in front of him. He closes his eyes, and everyone waits silently as he finds his spark and puts a small ball of his magic (which has settled to blood red) into Stiles’s outstretched hands. Lydia comes next, depositing her grey magic. Then it’s Mike, with his prune-purple, and, finally, Petey, with her happy peach-orange color. 

Stiles looks to Michelle. “Michelle?”

She comes to sit across from him and forms her ball, explaining, “I wasn’t sure if I should join.”

“Of course,” Stiles says. “This is just a routine. It’s what my teacher taught me.” He adds his own magic to the mix and throws it upwards. It creates what Derek calls mockingly a “safe space” because nothing can get inside and they can’t feel any changes from the outside (rain, snow, mud, et cetera). It’s also magic-proof.

“Well, you guys are lucky for today,” Stiles says, grinning at his students. “We’re only going to spend half the lesson focusing on earth magic. Michelle has offered to show us some cool alchemy tricks.”

Lydia stares at her. “You’re an alchemist? That’s so cool. I wish my magic was alchemy. But _no_. All I can do is see ghosts and know when people are about to die.”

“Your magic is incredibly useful,” Michelle says. “Do not wish for the powers of another, Lydia. It will only turn you dark when you consider stealing the power of another. Just think of all the people without magic and be glad you have any gift.”

Stiles shoots Michelle a thankful glance. “Alright, so as for my part of the lesson, I was just going to work on having you guys make mud golems.”

“That could work well with my idea,” Michelle offers. “If we make mud golems, I can show you how to transform the mud into steel.”

“Cool,” Petey says, eyes wide as saucers. Lydia’s are almost as round and Danny looks excited.

“Let’s get started, then,” Stiles says, rubbing his hands together.

//

“Der, Stiles, if you want, Uncle Peter, Adam, Xela and I can take anyone who wants to go for ice cream,” Cora offers after dinner on Tuesday. “Maybe some of the Reed pack, too.” She tucks a hair behind Petey’s ear. “The full moon’s tomorrow and I’m sure the kids’d like to get a little extra energy out.”

“By giving them sugar?” Stiles asks, doubtful.

“We’ll take them to the park afterwards. C’mon, kiddos,” Cora says. “Der, a little money?”

Wordlessly, Derek hands Cora some cash. “Back by eight thirty,” he says.

Then Cora and her friends (and Peter) usher everyone out. Derek and Stiles clear the table, put the food away, and start the dishes. When a third set of hands join them, Stiles jumps.

“Sorry,” Rye says. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Tonight’s my night for dishes.”

“Why didn’t you go out for ice cream?” Stiles asks, handing Derek another dripping bowl.

“Didn’t want to,” Rye says, shrugging.

Derek pulls a sourwolf face and kisses Stiles’s head. “I’m going to go watch Ida, if you two have this covered,” he murmurs into his mate’s hair.

“Yeah, why don’t you put Naked and Afraid on?” Stiles asks, not stopping his dish-cleaning movements.

“Okay,” Derek says, leaving.

Stiles finishes up the work in the kitchen with Rye in companionable silence, and then he holds the door to the hallway open. “Wanna watch TV with us?”

Rye shrugs, nods, and follows Stiles. Stiles flops onto the couch near Derek, who has a fast-asleep Ida on his chest.

“Hey,” Stiles says, unworried about waking the baby wolf up.

“Hey,” Derek says, turning his head for a quick kiss. “I put it on, though I can’t see why you like that stupid show.”

Stiles smiles warmly at Derek and cuddles into his shoulder. Rye’s settled into another couch.

They watch the show for a few minutes. Stiles isn’t entirely certain why he likes the show, either, but it’s just so pointless that he thinks it’s interesting.

“Don’t you two fight ever?” Rye asks.

Derek and Stiles glance at each other, surprised. “Um. Sometimes? Not very much,” Stiles says.

“Then are you not actually dating?” she asks, brow furrowed.

Stiles laughs, and Derek presses a kiss to Stiles’s exposed neck. “I mean, we’re mated, so take that to mean as you will. Why do you ask?”

“I just…it doesn’t feel like it could be real,” Rye says. “You, like, never fight, and you two successfully run a huge pack, and you have time to go to war in your spare time.”

Stiles hums. “It took a lot to get here,” he says. “And it took a long time for us to be the way we are. Some things will never change, like Derek being quieter than me, or me being able to read Derek like a book, but a good relationship will grow along with its members.”

“Cheesy,” Derek mutters against his shoulder.

“Shut up,” Stiles says, smacking him. “I know where you sleep.”

Derek laughs and begins to suck on the skin of Stiles’s shoulder.

“He’ll also never stop being possessive,” Stiles says with an eye-roll, even though his hand finds Derek’s thigh and grips it. “But, Rye, if you’re worried, you just have to remember that everything takes time. Nothing good comes easily.”

“You’re like a hallmark card,” Derek teases.

“Just because it’s cheesy doesn’t mean the advice is bad,” Stiles says.

Rye nods slowly and draws her knees up to her chest. Stiles faintly registers Derek muting the show.

“Derek said I can’t join the vampires yet,” she says.

Derek pauses in his attack on Stiles’s shoulder (why doesn’t Stiles wear tank tops more?).

“And I understand that right now it could make the pack weak,” she continues. “But…I don’t fit in really anywhere.” She looks at Stiles and Derek. “And don’t you worry about becoming old?”

 

Derek is the one to shake his head and say, “Stiles is the one I want to grow old and die with. I know he’ll pull me from purgatory and bring me to heaven.”

Rye frowns. “It’s not for me.”

“Won’t you be sad to see your family die?” Stiles asks. “Everyone you love will be gone.”

“I don’t have anyone to be sad for, Stiles,” she says. 

Stiles waves his hand. “Pack?”

“I’m human, Stiles. I can’t see feelings like Petey or become a giant lizard like Jackson. I can’t even shift to a beta form. Pack isn’t for me.”

“Pack is for anyone that wants it,” Derek says.

“It’s not for me,” Rye insists.

Stiles shrugs and takes Ida off of Derek’s chest. “I’m going to go put her to bed,” he says, dropping a kiss to Derek’s lips along with a bite to his earlobe.

“He left a hickey on your shoulder,” Rye informs Stiles as he leaves, Ida cradled against his chest.

“I’m sure he did,” Stiles says, laughing. “Derek, you should go see if the Reed pack needs anything.”

//

Kessa sniffs Stiles and then raises an eyebrow at Derek, who shrugs and pushes the corners of his mouth down into his signature “fuck off” shrug look.

Basically, he’s proud of himself, like a dog that peed on a tree in his property.

Stiles isn’t sure how he feels about comparing himself to a tree of Derek’s that was peed on. 

“Kessa, we do our full moon run a little differently than you,” Derek says. “Everyone runs together, and Peter and I carry Scott and Ida.”

“Sounds fun,” the Reed alpha says, rubbing her hands together.

“Derek also likes to pin Stiles to the ground and scent him,” Liam says seriously.

Derek hides a smile behind a hand.

“Well, everyone, strip ‘n shift,” Stiles says, clapping his hands together and grinning at Derek, whose response is to drag his shirt off like a striptease for his mate.

“Ew! Derek!” Cora yells.

Derek’s eyes crinkle as he hugs Stiles and shifts.

Stiles has loved Derek’s wolf form since he first saw it. Derek is huge, was even as a beta, black, and still has his green eyes as a wolf, which Peter informed Stiles is unusual. 

Stiles grins and drapes himself over the wolf, who licks Stiles’s cheek. Stiles laughs and rubs his head against his alpha’s neck. The other pack members are stripping and shifting and Scott toddles over to Derek in his little wolf form.

Stiles coos and pets Scott’s little furry head. Jesus, he’s adorable.

Derek turns his head and licks Stiles again before shaking him off and picking Scott up by the scruff of his neck.

//

“So. Der.” Cora sits in front of her brother.

He arches an eyebrow at her. “Yes, Cora?”

“So, Rye turns seventeen in a few weeks,” she begins.

Stiles gives Derek a “what are they up to?” look.

“Yeah?” Derek crosses his arms. “As long as she’s under this roof, she has to -”

Cora rolls her eyes. “It’s not about the work rule. Ugh, Derek. Anyway, you know how she’s been kinda lonely and stuff? Well, Adam and Xela and I want to throw her a surprise birthday party.” She takes a breath and says. “Here. We want to throw it here.”

“Yeah, sure,” Derek says. “I’m sure the kids -”

“And we want to invite her friends,” Cora adds.

“Humans? That don’t know?” Derek frowns, brow furrowing. “I don’t know, Cora.”

“Stiles,” Cora wheedles. “You’ve seen how much she hates being so alone. Please?”

Derek and Stiles meet each other’s eyes. “Alright, fine -” Cora grins and pumps her fist “- _but_ your budget, excluding presents and any food or markers and stuff we already have around the house, is twenty dollars, and you have to find a way to entertain or have someone watch the kids that aren’t old enough to control the shift well - so Ida and Scott, basically.” Derek hands Cora a twenty. “Be creative, kid.”

Cora grins and pecks Stiles on the cheek. “Thanks, Stiles. And Derek.”

“I feel like this is going to be a mistake,” Derek says, coming to where Stiles is standing and running a hand over his neck.

“I feel like we need to go say goodbye to the Reed pack,” Stiles says, winking at Derek and dragging him outside. “God, I’m so glad the kids go back to school tomorrow,” he mutters, stepping over a lego on the carpet. “JACKSON! PETEY! PICK YOUR LEGOS UP THIS INSTANT!” he yells.

“Alpha Reed,” Derek says, bowing his head. “Emissary Moreno. It was a pleasure to host you. I hope you’ll come again soon.”

“The same to you, Alpha Hale and Emissary Stilinski,” Kessa says, tilting her head down but still regarding them with warm brown eyes.

“We’re sorry about the craziness,” Stiles says. 

“No, it's fine. Please tell us if you find anything else out about the sorcerer,” Michelle says.

“And tell us what the pup says,” Ed adds.

“Of course,” Stiles says, shaking Ed’s hand.

//

Derek sets Isaac on Stiles’s lap. Stiles sets up the soundproofing spell and rubs Isaac’s back.

The six-year-old looks at Derek with suspicion. “What happened? Did I do something bad?”

Derek rubs a hand over the beta’s head. “No, Isaac. Stiles and I just have a few questions about your dad, okay?”

Isaac leans back into Stiles’s chest. “Why do you wanna know about him?”

“We just want to know if you know anyone he hurt - outside your pack - that might want revenge on him,” Stiles says.

Isaac frowns. “I dunno. My dad did a lot of bad things.”

“Anything would help, Isaac,” Derek says.

The kid takes a breath. “I mean, the worst killings were the vampire’s brother and our old emissary’s daughter. I dunno if Angela or our old emissary would do this though. Oh, and there was also Camden’s boyfriend.”

“What happened with Camden’s boyfriend? Who’s Camden?”

“Camden was my older brother,” Isaac says, pulling Stiles’s arms to wrap around him. “Camden wasn’t very nice to him. He pushed him in a pool once when he was drunk and he almost drowned. My dad got really mad and hurt Camden’s boyfriend.”

“What happened to Camden? And what do you remember about the boyfriend?”

Stiles shoots Derek a warning look.

“Camden died when they were fighting a rival pack,” Isaac says. “And I don’t really remember much about his boyfriend. I think he had brown hair and blue eyes. It’s been a long time.”

Stiles kisses Isaac’s head. “Thank you, Isaac.”

“Can I go play with Boyd now?”

“Go for it, kiddo,” Stiles says.

//

Stiles and Derek spend hours stalking Camden’s online presence, trying to find any mention of a boyfriend. Neither finds anything, and Stiles groans, fisting his hands into his hair and yanking. “It’s like he’s a ghost! Jesus frickin’ Christ!”

Derek kisses him. “We’ll figure it out, Stiles.”

Stiles makes grabby hands at Derek. “I want sex. C’mon.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “What’s the magic word?” he teases, pulling his shirt off.

Stiles rolls his eyes and closes the door and puts up the silence spell with two waves of his hands. “The magic word is ‘I’m mated to you for life.’” He unbuttons his jeans.

Derek’s face turns more serious as he undoes his own button, standing to shimmy his jeans off. “Out of curiosity, what do you think having sex right now is going to accomplish?”

Stiles shrugs out of his hoodie. “I think we’re both frustrated and haven’t had sex for almost a week. And I think we just need to have sex.”

Derek grins and presses his lips to Stiles’s. “We haven’t lost it,” he murmurs, hands dipping into Stiles’s boxer-briefs.

“Nope.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you catch any typos or anything. Nothing I post has been beta'd, and I'm only human. Thanks for reading!

“Der, where’s the cake?” Stiles asks, handing Scott, who’s bawling, to Peter, who’s holding Ida already. He and the sheriff will take turns babysitting.

Derek shrugs. “Xela was in charge of it, I thought.”

“Jesus,” Stiles says, shoving him towards the den. “Call the kids and figure out some way to make sure they behave.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Derek says, mock saluting him before pressing a kiss to his forehead and going into the den.

Stiles yawns once and goes into the kitchen, where Xela and Adam are trying to press coconut flakes to the outside of the rainbow coconut cake they’d made the night before. “You guys doing okay? Rye’s going to be here in a few minutes. Where are her friends?”

“Hidden strategically around the entryway,” Cora says, seated on the counter and watching Xela and Adam with an amused smirk.

“Cora, get off your ass and do something useful,” Stiles snaps. Cora obeys, sticking her tongue out at Stiles. He sighs and sets out a rainbow-themed fruit platter (he and Derek did their best, but it’s not exactly berry season…).

“Two minutes!” Cora calls. “Everyone hide.”

Stiles stands by the food, not hiding in the least. Derek silently slips up beside him and presses a kiss to his cheek.

Rye comes in, slipping her shoes off and chatting with one of her friends (who was assigned the job of getting her here without telling her anything). As she sets her bag down, laughing at something her friend says, Cora flips the light on and everyone jumps out, yelling, “Surprise!”

Rye falls over and then stands up and laughs. “Aww, guys!”

“Come see what we made you, Rye,” Petey says, tugging on her sleeve. “Come see!”

“Where’s Scott and Ida?” she asks, looking around.

“Peter and my dad are taking care of them so you can have a better time,” Stiles says.

“Thanks a ton, Stiles and Derek,” Rye says, coming to hug Stiles.

Stiles laughs. “It wasn’t us. You have Cora to thank for all of this. And Adam and Xela.”

Rye turns to Cora and hugs her, too. “Thank you, Cora,” she says. “This was so nice.”

Derek runs his hand over Stiles’s hair and drops a kiss to his head, turning into the kitchen to go do something. Naturally, after that, Boyd and Isaac clamber all over Stiles. The older kids are better at controlling their desires to cover Stiles in pack scent.

Stiles laughs and boosts them up, one per hip.

“Dude. Rye. Your family is so cool. This house is huge.” The friend that brought Rye over offers a hand to Stiles just seconds after finishing the sentence. 

Stiles shakes the hand, which contrasts deeply with his pale skin, and immediately gets jolt of power. Frowning, he rubs at the spot. “I’m Stiles. Derek, the guy that went into the kitchen, he’s my husband.” He smiles faintly. “And this is Miriam, Liam, Petey, Erica, Jackson, Isaac, and Boyd. We have two other kiddos - little ones - with Cora’s uncle right now. The old grizzly man over there is my father. What are your names?”

The spark smiles. “I’m Abby.” She turns around and points to some of the people in the hall. “That’s Jeremy, Ana, Bennett, and Joy.” Joy has blue hair, which makes Stiles smile. He loves Inside Out.

Cora is still hugging Rye. Both of them look like it’s the best day ever. Adam and Xela get in on the hugs, too.

Derek reappears next to Stiles and picks up Jackson, who was tugging at Stiles’s shirt. “Everything is ready in the kitchen,” he murmurs, kissing Stiles lightly.

“Papa,” Jackson complains with a frown.

Stiles sighs, makes an exaggerated annoyed-face at Jackson, and tickles the kid. “Alright,” he says to the group. “Kids, don’t touch the food until Rye and her guests have eaten as much as they want.”

Cora points to where the food is, and Rye’s friends laugh and fill their plates. All the kids look at Stiles with pouts when he doesn’t say anything (and Rye’s last friend is through).

“Alright, fine,” Stiles says. “But leave some for the adults.”

The kids obey, naturally, and Stiles makes plates for himself, Derek, the sheriff, and Peter.

Rye just keeps smiling, and Cora shows her the pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, the Cards Against Humanity, and the other stuff Cora and co have set up.

When it’s time to cut the cake, after everyone’s eaten everything else, Derek shoots the kids a stern look, and they stand back from the cake while the teens surround it and Rye. They sing, and Rye grins when they cut open the cake.

“This has been great,” Rye says, hugging Cora again. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me. I’m not even…I’ve only lived with Stiles and Derek for like two months now.”

Cora smiles. “Even if you leave, Rye, you’ll always be our family. And we do stuff like this for our family.”

Rye squeals then and hugs Cora again.

Just after that, Petey takes her slice of cake before Jackson, whose eyes flash and who hisses. Petey freezes and looks around, only to see one of Cora’s friends - the spark - watching the interaction with interest.

Stiles watches in horror as Petey laughs and hisses back at Jackson, though less convincingly.

“Jackson!” Derek says sharply. When the teens look at him, he adds (in a softer tone), “Go play with Scott and Ida. Petey, you too.”

The two kids run towards the dorm, and the spark still watches.

Stiles nods towards her, and Derek sighs. He kisses Stiles on the forehead before Stiles walks towards the kid. “Hey, Abby, right?”

“Yeah,” she says slowly.

Stiles gazes into her eyes and gathers the power he’ll need for the forgetting spell. “You looked a little funny,” he says, pouring power from his eyes into hers and watching as they go blank.

“Yeah… I think I had a little too much cake,” she says dazedly. 

Stiles finishes the spell, and Abby smiles at him. “Hey, Stiles. Did something happen?”

“No,” Stiles says, smiling. “Just wanted to tell you to have fun with Rye. We’re glad you guys could do this for her. It’s been a tough transition, I think.”

Abby nods. “We’re glad to come over. Also, um, you don’t normally see young gay guys taking care of thirteen kids.”

Stiles laughs and leans against a wall. “Actually, we’re both bi,” he says, crossing his arms. “But Derek always knew I wanted a big family, and he was used to having one, and now we have a perfect one.” He meets Derek’s eyes across the room and smiles.

//

“Derek!” Stiles shoots up in bed.

“Hm?” the sleepy lump next to him answers.

“Derek, I have an idea of how to find him,” Stiles says, grabbing his laptop.

“How?”

“Look for Camden,” Stiles says. “See if there's any mention of him coming out. If he was a wolf, it's almost certain he was an athlete in high school.”

Derek falls back against the nest of pillows he has around him and Stiles. “Jesus, Stiles, it’s - what time is it?” He checks his watch. “Four in the fucking morning, Stiles.”

“Sh, sh,” Stiles says, typing into the search bar. “Here, I got something. It’s from a few years back. ‘Northbrook Preparatory Athlete Comes Out, Has Boyfriend.’” He clicks on the link.

Derek sits up, threading an arm around Stiles as they read.

They meet each other’s eyes. “Matt Daehler,” Derek says slowly. “I haven’t heard the name.”

“I’ll contact nearby covens,” Stiles says. “He must have been trained somewhere.” Stiles nestles into Derek’s shoulder. “Back to sleep?”

“Hell, yeah,” Derek says, wrapping his arms tightly around Stiles. “Good night, Stiles,” he murmurs, pressing his nose into that spot just below Stiles’s ear that Derek loves.

“Derek?”

“What, Stiles?”

Stiles grips at Derek’s fingers. “I have no reason to be, really, but…”

“You’re scared,” Derek says, coming to press Stiles into the mattress and hold himself above the mage, looking into his eyes.

Stiles purses his lips. “I -”

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Derek says. “I’m scared every day. Scared that I’ll lose my family again.”

Stiles hugs him tightly, pulling him to cover the mage. “Even if you lose my physical form,” he says wryly, “I’ll haunt you as a ghost.”

Derek laughs and presses a soft kiss to Stiles’s mouth. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Stiles retorts, grinning again and letting his fingers dig into Derek’s chest. “I’m just…the spells this guy is making…” He shivers. “You can’t understand what death by one of these charms’d be like, Derek.”

Derek’s eyes search his. “Try to explain.”

Stiles screws his eyes shut and pushes the heels of his hands into them. “I guess the easiest is the ones Geoffrey would have made, not the ones Matt’s made,” he says. “Imagine a knife cutting into you, except it takes an hour per cut, and there’s the added sensation of burning because it’s a knife made of fire. And you can’t heal. The cauterization would make it so you couldn’t die from blood loss, not until you’d satisfied what he wanted from you. If you survived the pain and shock, you’d tell him what he wanted to know and he’d slit your throat. You’d be lucky to die from shock or pain, honestly.”

Derek grips Stiles’s sides. “Is there a way to undo it?”

“Yeah, pure power and will of mind. You’d need to recover for, like, four or five days after removing the charm and its power.” Stiles sighs. “And that’d be a _powerful_ mage. I doubt Geoffrey would have been able to do it. He wouldn’t have had the raw power. He was cunning and good at making charms, but he wasn’t that powerful.”

Derek hums and bites down lightly on Stiles’s neck. “I hate to say it,” he says, still pressing his face into Stiles’s neck. “But if it’s Lahey pack people he’s killing, I’m not too worried about it. He’s protecting my pack, even if not intentionally.”

“Who’s to say he won’t turn to us, or, you know, other people after, though?” Stiles says. “We’re not even sure if it’s Lahey’s pack he’s after. What if he just hates wolves? What if he’s just a deranged serial killer? What if he just had it out for that one wolf?”

Derek bites down again, and Stiles squirms. “Sh,” he says off-handedly. “I’m trying to think.”

“And make your mark,” Stiles mutters when Derek bites again, even if he likes it. A lot.

“Now that you have an idea of who it is, can you track him? See his motives?”

“Maybe, but I’ll need something to conceal myself magically first.” Stiles frowns. “A charm, from Mike. I know which one, but it’ll take at least two weeks to make. It has a lot of…specific steps. And it needs the blood of a shifted wolf from a full moon.”

“Full moon’s in a week,” Derek points out. “I’ll give.”

Stiles hums. “Okay.” Then he tilts his head to the side and pouts at Derek. “Please?”

Derek smiles at him. “Soundproofing?”

“Hell yeah,” Stiles says, pumping his fist. “Let’s talk about sex, baby,” he hums, grinning at Derek.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Derek teases, but then he’s done waiting and starts to kiss Stiles.

//

Stiles grabs Petey by the back of her shirt before she can race by to follow Jackson to do something. “Jackson, get ready for school, and Petey, Lydia’s here. Work with her on your basic spellbook.”

“But _Babi_ ,” both kids say.

“Jackson, Lydia gets to skip school because her dad said so, and Petey, I know you’ve finished the spellbook, but going back to the basics is always good. Now go.” Stiles smooths Petey’s hair and releases her.

Peter glides in, pulling Stiles into a quick hug. “What’s my chore list for today?”

Stiles ticks things off on his fingers as he says, “Gutters. Rotating garden soil. Planting the trees that are ready to move from the nursery into the forest. Petey blasted part of her door off. Again. Boyd and Scott gouged claw marks into the front door yesterday. The shed needs to be finished.” He hands Peter the pouch full of runes to press into the trees.

“Alright. It’s possible that I’ll need two days,” Peter says. “I don’t have anything to fix the doors with at the moment.”

“Sounds fine,” Stiles says. “I have to go. Mike?” he calls as he walks off.

“Yep?”

Stiles comes into the workshop, pleased to see Mike bent over the charm he asked him to make. “How’s it coming along?”

“Slowly, because I can only do about an hour per day,” Mike says. “I have backorder stuff I have to do, as well.”

Stiles chuckles. “Just hope Danny can be of some use. Speaking of which, where is he?”

“Not here yet,” Mike says. “Didn’t you have Lydia and Petey doing some basic spellwork? Stick him with them.”

Stiles frowns. “I do have a few salves to start,” he muses. “Maybe for an hour,” he decides. “But I should really be there, training them.”

Mike hums. “You could always send Petey up here to work,” he supplies.

“No. She needs to review her basic magic.” Stiles texts Danny to join Petey and Lydia. “Oh, interesting. Danny’s late because his sort-of ex is back in town and he - um, I shouldn’t be going into detail about this with you. What was I doing? Oh, yeah, website. Let’s see…face cream, blister salve…oh! I need to make some hair cream, too.” He gets out the ingredients and begins to mix, frowning as he adds herbs and other things to pots around the stove.

“Do people buy a lot of that hair cream?” Mike asks, frowning as he adds another line to the charm.

“Yeah, enough,” Stiles says. “The website does as well as it needs to. We’re not wanting for money, not with Derek’s family’s life insurance, Dad and Peter working, and everyone else contributing to the pack website.” He plucks a few pieces of his own hair, frowning. Then he takes the jar from under the counter with the hairs he collects from the pack after haircuts. He drops some of it into the pot. “How’s Lydia at home? Nothing….worrisome?”

“What do you mean?” Mike asks, frowning as he looks up at Stiles.

“With the death magic,” Stiles says softly. “Has she had any…visions?”

Mike blinks. “No.”

Stiles nods. “Okay, um, okay.”

“Jesus, Stiles, you’re so awkward,” Cora says, breezing in and grabbing a backpack. “Petey says she needs something from this.”

“You should be at school,” Stiles remarks.

“Sick,” Cora says with a smirk. “Derek gave me permission to skip. B’sides, it’d look odd if the Hale kids only skipped once a month, wouldn’t it?”

“Your brother is a softie,” Stiles says. “Alright, fine. But use the time to study and clean the dorms.”

Cora sighs, but she knows the sick drill. “Can I watch a movie?”

“After you’re done with your work,” Stiles says, waving a hand for her to leave. “C’mon now, Mike and I are working. Git.”

She looks upon him with soft golden eyes and nods once before disappearing.

//

“Babi?”

Stiles tears his eyes away from the magical text he’s reading. “Isaac, bud, what are you doing up here?”

“It smells like blood and my old pack outside of the homework room,” Isaac nearly whimpers. “Papa and Uncle Peter are running the borders and I just - Cora won’t let anyone go outside to look, and, I just, I -”

Stiles stands, sets his reading glasses on top of the book, and picks Isaac up. “I’ll go check it out. You go ask Cora for a big big-werewolf-sister hug, okay?”

Isaac nods and disappears after Stiles sets him down. Stiles grabs a jacket and activates a charm within the pocket.

When he gets outside the window, he just sits back in the dirt and laughs. He calls his mate, who rushes over and sighs when he sees Stiles laughing at another dead body near their house.

“Why’s the dead Lahey funny, Stiles?” Derek rubs at his eyes.

“He’s giving me clue about who he is,” Stiles says. “Daehler. He used one of Camden’s sports medals to make this charm. But in making it bigger, he made it easier to tell what each aspect of the charm does what.”

Derek kisses Stiles’s head. “I thought you were hurt for a moment. Then you started laughing.”

Stiles lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m going to go inside and calm the kids down. Isaac came and got me and he’s… I need to go make sure they’re okay.” He levitates the charm and kisses Derek. “Can you…?” He gestures at the body. 

Derek nods and kisses Stiles’s head again. “Do you know how to stop it?” he asks, searching Stiles’s face for something.

Stiles shakes his head softly, tearing his gaze from Derek’s. “I don’t…not until he’s dead or stops of his own accord.”

Derek nods slowly and then pushes Stiles towards the door.

//

“Daddy?” Lydia says, rubbing her eyes as she and Petey appear in the doorway.

“Babi?” Petey echoes.

Both men tear their gazes away from the charm suspended about a foot off of the counter.

“Hm?”

“When are we going home?” Lydia asks quietly.

“I don’t know, sweetie. Stiles and I have to work on this charm,” Mike says.

“She and you can just sleep here, if you want,” Stiles says. “Derek can put them to bed.”

Mike looks between his daughter and the charm and then sighs. “Yeah, I think that’d be good.”

“Derek,” Stiles says, not even raising his voice. A minute later, he appears.

“What?” he says.

“Can you put Petey and Lydia to bed?” Stiles asks. 

Derek nods. “How much longer, Stiles?”

“We just need to…” Stiles starts, but then he’s drawn back into a discussion about some of the markings on the charm.

Derek sighs and leads the girls away.

//

“Got ‘em,” Peter says triumphantly, holding a roll of papers in his right hand like a scepter.

“Got what?” Stiles asks.

“The geographical, military-grade maps I ordered of Lahey’s land,” Peter says smugly. “Cost me a pretty penny, but they’re worth it.”

Stiles grins and sits across from him. “Plotting time?”

Peter fist-bumps his nephew’s mate. “Plotting time.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I allow you two to be around each other,” Derek says drily, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter.

“Go work on school with Petey,” Stiles says, waving a hand. He leans over the maps Peter spreads over the table. “This will take a while.”

Derek whuffs and noses through Stiles’s hair before going up the stairs.

Stiles points to a small mountain on the map. And then another. And a bluff. “We should avoid these. And is there any way to visit the territory?”

Peter hums. “Maybe, if you gave Danny a scent-covering charm and make him smell a whole hell of a lot like fairy ejaculate and send him there on a ‘camping trip’ with the fairy.”

“Danny’s ex-ish is back,” Stiles says, frowning. “Ethan? Remember him? Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure he reeks of both of them right now.”

Peter makes a face. “Ew. Fairy ejaculate smells odd as it is, but fairy ejaculate _and_ other-alpha ejaculate? Please, spare me.”

Stiles laughs. “Would Danny be able to go onto their lands smelling of Ethan? ‘Cause I think the three of them are enjoying this arrangement.”

Peter hums. “I mean, wolves copulate with humans all the time as flings, but a wolf _and_ a fairy might be too conspicuous.”

Stiles drums his fingers on the worn wooden table and glances at the wall clock. He’s not actually checking the time. “If we gave him a potion to clear his scent and then have him have lots of sex with the fairy, like, _lots_ of sex, would that work?”

Peter considers. “Is there a way to block only certain scents?”

Stiles considers. “I could try. I’d need something that smelled like each person you wanted to block, though, and I couldn’t even guarantee it’d work.”

Peter turns back to the map. “Let’s keep looking for possible fight places.”

//

“Alright, guys, let’s do this,” Stiles says, the elementary-school kids sitting on the ground surrounded by pink, red, and purple paper, glue, markers, tape, and chocolate hearts in a loose circle around Stiles. “Here’s how this is going to work. Each class is going to make twenty-three Valentine’s cards with these words on them, and then we’re going to go back through, give each one of you the right number for your classes, and redo the horrid ones.” Stiles throws a hologram up with the words he wants the kids to write. “Help Boyd and Isaac, by the way.”

“Stiles?” Derek calls.

“What’s up?”

“Who was on laundry this morning?” Derek asks, holding some greenish-grey sheets in his hand.

“Where did you get those?” Stiles asks, frowning. “And lordy, that’s a dreadful color.”

“I’m aware,” Derek says drily. “I was folding what was supposed to be clean laundry when I came across the load of sheets that had been done this morning. They’re all this color.”

“I think it was Jackson and Erica,” Stiles says. “Kids?”

“Yeah,” Liam calls out, sounding almost smug. “Toldja they’d be mad,” he adds.

“We just wanted not-white sheets,” Erica says.

“Yeah, ‘cause _anything_ is better than the white that you always make us have.” Jackson and Erica both come into the laundry room, and Jackson has his arms crossed over his chest.

Derek gives them his “you’re in deep shit, kids” look. It’s kind of scary. “Well, that’s great,” he says. “I guess Stiles will have to do your Valentine’s day cards.”

“Why?” Erica asks, cocking her head.

“Because you two are going to come with me to bleach these sheets outside,” Derek says with what can only be described as a sadistic smile. “Gather the sheets, kiddos.”

“They’re in trouble,” Isaac says solemnly.

“Don’t do stupid stuff,” Stiles says, and then he sits and begins to scribble on cards. “C’mon, kiddos, get ‘em done.”

//

“The sheets smell weird,” Scott whines when Stiles tries to put him to bed.

“Scott, we washed them three more times after they bleached them,” Stiles says, half-pleading. If Scott, who’s the youngest and the least able to smell and hear well, can smell the bleach, none of the kids are going to want to go to bed in the sheets.

“I’m not sleeping in them,” Scott declares, crossing his arms.

Stiles sighs and rubs his temples. “You’re going to have to sleep with your pillow,” he says. “Go up to our room. Not on the bed, either. Looks like it’s a pack night.”

Scott smiles widely and races up the stairs, yelling about the pack sleeping together.

Stiles gathers the sheets and brings them down the stairs, growling at Erica and Jackson to follow him. “Hang these on the clothesline,” he says.

“It’s cold.”

Stiles gives them a flat look and hands Erica the sheets and Jackson the pins. “Your fault.”

“Stiles!” Derek yells.

“What?” Stiles asks, going back inside.

“Get the kids out of our room! I have work!” Derek says, waving a hand with a laptop in it at Stiles.

Stiles shakes his head slowly. “No can do, Der. Kids won’t sleep on the bleach sheets. Our room is the only one that doesn’t smell like bleach.”

Derek growls. “Fine.”

“I know,” Stiles says. “They’re outside, hanging the sheets to air for the night.”

Derek huffs and pecks Stiles’s cheek. “Love you.”

“You too.”

//

“Yes, yes,” Stiles says, clapping his hands. “Good, Danny.”

Danny’s sweating from the effort it’s taking to do all this. “When can I let it down?”

“Lower it carefully,” Stiles says, holding his hands out to help take some of the weight of the boulder.

“Stiles, this isn’t me,” Danny says, sitting back on the ground. “I’m not an earth mage or whatever. It doesn’t…it’s not right.”

“Don’t worry,” Stiles says, tossing Danny a handkerchief. “We’ll figure out what you are.”

“You know what Lydia is, goddamnit,” Danny says crossing his arms. “She’s, what, nine? And you know what she is. You know what Petey is. You know what Mike is. You’ve been training for your position since you were fourteen. But you can’t figure out what I am?”

“It likely has to do with the magic that you have inked into your body,” Stiles says, spreading his hands. “It’s meant to lock down your powers. There’s little I can do. Sorry, Danny.”

“But you _broke_ it,” he argues.

“There’s _nothing_ I can do,” Stiles says. “You just have to wait. Keep training, meditating, learning. I can’t do anything else. I’m sorry.”

Danny falls back against a tree. “I know what you’re going to ask me to do.”

Stiles gives Danny a guilty look. “I’m sorry we dragged you into this war.”

“No you’re not,” Danny says, hand over his eyes.

Stiles hesitates. “I’m sorry it’s you.”

“You dragged your kids into it,” Danny says, “and the entirety of the Reed pack. Why’m I special?”

“Because the kids have been involved in it since we got them,” Stiles says. “They’re nearly all supernatural. And we didn’t _drag_ -”

“Stiles,” Danny says. “Be quiet.”

And Stiles is quiet.

//

Isaac is seated on Stiles’s lap and has refused to move - or even let Stiles get up - for the past hour. He fell asleep about thirty minutes ago, but he wakes up every time Stiles so much as shifts his weight.

So, yeah. Stiles needs help. He has to pee like never before.

“Scott? Do you know why he’s like this?” Stiles asks, desperate.

The kid just shakes his head. “He was okay last night, Babi.” Then he rubs up against Stiles’s leg twice and leaves with an armful of dolls.

“Derek,” Stiles groans.

“Can’t do anything, Stiles, sorry,” Derek says, kissing the mage over Isaac’s head.

Stiles sighs. Then he wakes Isaac up to receive a pout. “Kiddo, what’s wrong?”

“One of the people at school smells like my dad,” Isaac says. “He’s a teacher. He’s mean.”

Stiles sighs and sets Isaac down. “No one’s going to hurt you, not on your papa’s and my watch,” he says firmly, hands on his hips. “Go do your homework, okay, kiddo?”

Isaac crosses his arms and sets his feet. “No.” Then he attaches himself to Stiles’s leg.

“Isaac,” Derek says.

“No.”

Derek’s eyes bleed red. “Isaac.”

Isaac starts to cry, but he doesn’t let go of Stiles.

Stiles sighs. “Isaac, bud, I need to pee. Why don’t you sit with Papa and Scott?”

“Wan’ _you_!” Isaac’s hands grow little claws and rip into Stiles’s jeans, tearing into his skin as well.

Stiles winces, and Derek kneels in front of Isaac, who digs in even further. “You’re hurting Babi,” Derek says softly. “I’m sorry I alpha’d you, but your claws are hurting Babi, and he can’t heal like I can. Do you want to sit with Grandpa? He’s watching cartoons.”

Isaac sniffs and seems to smell the blood trickling down Stiles’s leg. Stiles hasn’t moved an inch, but he’s not particularly enjoying the claws in his leg. “I’m sorry, Babi,” he says and pulls his claws out of Stiles’s leg. 

Stiles grips Derek’s shoulder with a small sound. “‘S okay, Isaac, but it would be _great_ if you could go sit with Grandpa so Papa can help me clean my leg up.” He’s pretty sure the blood has seeped through his pants.

“Stiles? Are you okay?” Peter says, coming into the room. “I smelled blood.” He looks at Stiles, Isaac, and Derek, and a look of understanding crosses his features. “Oh. Okay. Isaac, why don’t you come with me?”

Isaac looks like he’s going to start crying again when Peter leads him away, but Stiles focuses on the werewolf who’s carrying him up the stairs.

“How much does it hurt?” Derek asks softly as he sets Stiles on the bathroom counter and undoes the button on his jeans.

“You know, when I imagine the two of us in the bathroom and you unzipping my fly, I generally imagine some really hot shower sex, or at least a good blowjob,” Stiles says.

Derek chuffs lightly at that, but he doesn’t let himself be distracted. “Stiles, does it need stitches or a doctor?” he asks, tugging the pants over Stiles’s hips.

“I don’t think so,” the mage says, letting Derek lift the leg to examine it. “I think bandages will be fine.”

“Why don’t I run you a bath?” Derek suggests. “It will clean the cut and give me time to check on everything before bandaging it.”

“I don’t need a bath, Derek,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “And you can clean the cuts just fine with a washcloth and some hydrogen peroxide.”

Derek presses in for a kiss. “Maybe I just wanted to see my mate naked.”

“And maybe you’re just crazy. But Isaac’s going to flip if I’m not back there soon. Why don’t you go get everything? I need to take a piss, anyway.”

“Charming,” Derek drawls, but he’s already helping Stiles off the counter and lifting him to stand in front of the toilet. “I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t move.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and starts to use the bathroom. True to his word, Derek is back even before Stiles is done, watching anxiously as a little blood trickles down Stiles’s leg.

“Derek, I’m fine,” Stiles says, laughing lightly. “Put some hydrogen peroxide on the washcloth and then just wipe at the cuts until they look clean enough. Did you grab any butterfly stitches?”

“I grabbed the entire medical kit,” Derek says sheepishly as Stiles comes to stand in front of him in just his boxer briefs and tee shirt. “Okay, just, um, tell me if I’m hurting you.”

Stiles kisses Derek’s cheek. “Stop being such a worrywolf. I’m fine. Just wipe at them. I’ve been injured before.”

“But -”

Stiles pushes Derek to his knees, and the werewolf shuts up and begins to wipe at the cuts. When Stiles is satisfied, he makes Derek put the butterfly stitches on the worst of the marks.

“What do I do now?” Derek asks.

“Spray it with the bacitracin and wrap the gauze around my leg,” Stiles says, handing him what he’ll need.

“And now?” Derek says when he’s done.

“Little bit of medical tape and we should be good,” Stiles says, handing that to Derek, too.

Derek whines when Stiles winces slightly as Derek finishes taping. “Stiles -”

“I don’t want you to take my pain,” Stiles says harshly. “I’m fine, Der, I promise.”

Derek sighs deeply and kisses Stiles’s forehead. “It’s because I love you,” he says softly.

Stiles nods and holds Derek’s face between his hands. “I love you, too, Derek Hale,” he says. “Now can you help me get back into my jeans?”

“They’re covered in blood,” the other man protests. “Let me get you some sweatpants.”

“Derek,” Stiles half-groans. “I’m fine, really.”

“You smell like it hurts,” Derek says.

“Don’t bullshit me, I know you can’t smell that,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “Open the bond. You’ll be able to feel exactly what I feel.” He walks towards the bedroom.

Derek whuffs behind him as his hands come to Stiles’s hips. “Stiles…”

Stiles kisses Derek’s forearm as he steps into a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants (they might be Derek’s. They were in the clean-clothes pile). “Fine, take it. There’s almost nothing to take.”

Derek smiles and slides a hand over Stiles’s stomach as he sucks the pain. “Any pain is too much for you to bear in my mind,” he says.

Stiles rolls his eyes but smiles as he turns around in Derek’s arms. “You’re sweet today,” he mumbles against Derek’s lips.

Derek’s hands slide up to Stiles’s shoulder blades under his shirt. “I know how much pressure you’ve been under lately,” he says.

Stiles’s head drops to Derek’s shoulder. “Did we do the wrong thing? Are we dragging the kids into something they don’t deserve?”

“Who told you that?” Derek demands.

Stiles shakes his head. “Answer the question, Der.”

Derek breathes. “They’ve been in this since we adopted them, and before that if they’re born wolves. We’re doing this to protect them. If we don’t take on the Lahey pack, the alphas will.” 

“Am I a bad father?”

“No, Stiles, God, no.” Derek grabs his hands. “You do so, so much for these kids. They’re lucky to have you.”

Stiles crumbles into Derek then and just holds him tightly. Derek doesn’t comment on his sniffles, which Stiles is grateful for. When he’s stopped shaking, Derek hugs him tightly one last time.

“Thanks,” Stiles mutters.

Derek releases him. “I love you. You’re amazing. You’re a great father and a wonderful mate. We’re all lucky to have you.”

Stiles nods once at Derek. “Thanks. I - I needed that. I love you, too, Der.”

Derek kisses his head. “Do you want to do something else? I can deal with Isaac and the kiddos.”

Stiles scrubs at his eyes. “I have some work I need to do,” he admits. “But I can -”

“Stiles, I mean do you want time to _yourself_ ,” Derek says, rolling his eyes. “Do you want to lounge on the couch and write, or watch a movie, or take a bath, or, hell, I don’t know, meditate?”

“Maybe a movie would be nice,” Stiles says. He takes a step towards the door and winces, turning speculatively towards Derek. “Say…”

Derek scoops him up, kissing his forehead. “What do you want to watch?” he says as he carries his mate down the stairs.

Stiles consider. “Avengers,” he says.

“Of course,” Derek says, obviously only pretending to be put off. He carries Stiles all the way to the couch, where Stiles’s dad and Isaac are sitting. He sets Stiles down and plucks Isaac up, much to the boy’s chagrin (he tries to fight and claw his way towards Stiles, who honestly looks like he might drop from exhaustion).

“LEMME GO!” Isaac screams. “Alpha lemme go Papa! Babibabababibabababi,” he sobs. Then he just dissolves into whining and crying as he claws at the hands holding him back. He’s in full beta form, and Derek’s hands aren’t healing as fast as Isaac is clawing them open.

Stiles puts his face in his hands. “Let him go, Der.” He puts his arms out and scoops Isaac off the ground, rocking him and calming him down. “Sh, sh, sh,” he finds himself saying. He slips into murmuring phrases in Polish he remembers from his mother when he worked himself up like this. “It’s okay, Isaac.” He has Isaac’s hands (paws?) away from both of them.

When Isaac’s hysteria has calmed to just numbly clinging to Stiles and sniffling every so often, Stiles pulls away from the kid, just far enough to look him squarely in the eyes. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, kiddo. You’re not usually the type to wolf out, especially not over a tantrum,” Stiles says. 

“The mean man put something in his juice,” Boyd offers.

“Jesus christ,” Stiles says, digging his palms into his eyes. “Derek, go get the kit from the cabinet. Boyd, go get Cora.” He sets Isaac on the floor and does his best to appear calm and collected to the kid. “What did it taste like?”

“I dunno, juice?” Isaac says, already reaching for Stiles again.

“I doubt this was his intended effect, so it would appear he’s not a successful potionmaker,” Stiles says, mostly to himself. “Der, where’s that kit?”

“Here,” he says, handing to to Stiles. Stiels mixes a few things into a paste and then kneels in front of Isaac, a smile plastered on his face. “Bud, I need you to eat this, even though it doesn’t taste very good.” He gathers Isaac into his arms and hands him the dish.

“What is it?”

“Eat it,” Stiles says, gripping him a little tighter. “It’ll make you feel better.”

//

“Der?” Stiles mumbles, feeling himself being lifted.

“You fell asleep,” Derek murmurs as he carries Stiles up the stairs. “Right after you gave Isaac the antidote.”

Stiles sighs against Derek’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t even dinnertime. What’s it now?”

“Nine,” Derek says.

“I should do some work,” Stiles says, protesting feebly.

“No, you should sleep,” Derek says firmly, setting him in the bed. “You can get up early and work tomorrow morning, but you need to recharge your batteries.”

“‘Kay,” Stiles says, rubbing his eyes. “Can you take my socks off?”

Derek laughs, his hands already at Stiles’s feet. “You’re so weird.”

“You love it,” Stiles mumbles.

“I love you,” Derek says, kissing Stiles’s forehead. “Good night.”

//

Stiles wakes at a cold[er] hand on his [warm] stomach. He pushes at Derek’s hand. “Der, cold,” he mutters.

“Sorry,” Derek says, tucking into Stiles’s neck. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“‘S okay. Kids okay?”

“Yep. In bed. Checked on them a few minutes ago. Isaac was shifty but still asleep.”

Stiles nods and turns over, tucking his face into Derek’s neck and his hands into Derek’s chest. “And he’s…okay?”

“Mhm,” Derek says. “He seemed fine when I put him to bed.”

“He’s probably going to wake up,” Stiles says, sighing. 

“Scotty’s got him. Go to sleep, Stiles.”

//

Isaac is still sort of jumpy the next morning. He flinches whenever Derek or Stiles approaches him suddenly, and he keeps his eyes fixed on the ground. Stiles nods to Derek in Isaac’s direction and the alpha approaches him slowly, lifting him up out of his seat and cradling the boy to his chest. He carries him away, murmuring to him.

Stiles turns back to the breakfast table. Everyone is glancing nervously towards where Derek took Isaac.

“Finish up, clear your plates, and get ready for school,” Stiles barks. 

“Babi?”

“ _Yes_ , Scott?” Stiles’s head is starting to hurt. 

“Is Isaac gonna go to school today?”

“I don’t know, kiddo. Petey, please go start a batch of the pimple cream. I’ll clean your dishes,” Stiles says, forcing the calm note in his voice.

“Yes, Babi,” she says, nearly running out of the room.

“Babi?”

“Yes, Scott?”

Scott twists his hands and tugs on Stiles’s leg. “Can I stay home wif Isaac? I slept with him last night.”

Stiles considers. “Yeah. C’mere, kiddo.” He turns a threatening glare on the rest of them. “No, none of the rest of you may join them. Go get ready. The bus’ll be here in fifteen minutes, and, unless you like walking, you don’t want to miss it.”

There’s a gradual increase of sound in the house with everyone finishing getting ready for the day and leaving, and then it tapers off and it’s just Scott and Stiles.

“Check on the kitchen for me, will you?” Stiles says. “Make sure everyone’s done their jobs. I’ll be back in a few minutes and you can tell me who hasn’t done what.” Then he leaves and walks up to Isaac’s room, where Derek has Isaac sprawled over his chest, listening to Derek tell stories of his parents and his pack growing up.

“Babi,” Isaac says contentedly. He reaches out for Stiles, and Stiles leans over the bunk to rest a hand on Isaac’s back and his head on Derek’s shoulder. Derek’s hand slips just slightly underneath the collar of Stiles’s shirt, and Isaac squirms to be closer to Stiles.

Derek continues to speak in the low, smooth tone he adopted, and Stiles presses a kiss to his collarbone before worming away and going back down the stairs.

“The dishwasher needsa start,” Scott announces. 

“Okay, Scott. Why don’t you go lie down with Papa and Isaac?” Stiles ruffles Scott’s hair. “Papa’s telling stories about when he was a cub.”

Scott grins and nearly runs up the stairs, tripping over his foot once and going down on his face but getting right back up to run again. Stiles laughs to himself and starts the dishwasher. Then he goes up to his study.

“Petes? How’s it going?” Stiles asks.

“Okay,” she says. “Are you going to do any? Is Mike coming over? And Danny?”

“Mike, yes, Danny, no, and me, maybe. I need to do some ward-work.”

“Can I come?”

“I need you here with the potions, kiddo,” Stiles says. “And I’m not even taking Der with me.”

Petey lets out a drawn-out sigh. “Babiiii,” she whines.

“Nope. Mike’ll be here in twenty minutes if you need help, and here’s your list for today.” Stiles hands her a sheet of paper, kisses her head, and goes towards the stairs.

“Babi?”

“Yes, Petes?” He turns around.

“Can I go lie down with Isaac and Papa when I’m done with this one?”

Stiles half-sighs and nods. “Sure, Petey.”

“Thanks,” she says.

“I love you, kiddo,” he says in response.

“You, too, Babi,” she says.

//

“Jesus, so much to do, so much to do,” Stiles says, left hand adding mint to the first pot, right hand casting a stirring charm on another pot, and nose inhaling the steam rising off of the third.

“Stiles? You still in here?” Derek says, wandering into the room. “Stiles,” he groans. “Bed.”

Stiles shakes his head and adds some aconite to the second pot. “I need to get these orders out by tomorrow, and they all need to be room temperature before I package them and send them off.”

“Stiles, it’s nearly three in the morning,” Derek says, rubbing his eyes.

“So go to bed. Can you hand me that Red Bull?”

Derek holds Stiles’s eye contact as he lifts the energy drink and pours it down the sink. “Come to bed.”

“Der, I gotta -”

“You need to sleep, too. How much longer?”

“I dunno, forty-five minutes?”

Derek smiles then, but not one of his nice smiles, one of his devious “you just made the wrong move” smiles. “Guess I’ll be up late then, too.”

“Derek, go to bed.”

Derek sits on the desk, crosses his legs, and rests his chin in his hand. “I will when you do.”

Stiles sighs and returns to his potions, so to speak. “Thirty minutes.”

“I’ll be here,” Derek says, in as pleasant a tone as his gets.

“God damnit, Derek.”

“You take care of all of us, Stiles, but you have to take care of yourself, too.” Derek’s feet swing back and forth as he watches Stiles.

Stiles doesn’t stop brewing. “If we don’t have potions available for sale on the website, we won’t be able to support anyone,” he says softly.

Derek rubs his eyes. “We’re doing fine for money. More than fine.”

“But we might not always. Der, our pack is seventeen strong and growing. And it’s not going to be too long until Cora and co start having kids. And we _provide_ for pack,” Stiles says, brow furrowing.

Derek comes to stand behind Stiles and slide his hands into Stiles’s clothes - on hand coming to rest on his stomach, not quite flat, and the other sliding below his waistband to brush the edge of the bandage there from last week’s claw incident. Stiles lets his head fall back against Derek’s neck. Derek is silent for a minute as Stiles works.

“Please come to bed, Stiles,” he finally says. “I can feel how tired your body is. And I’m tired, too.”

“A few more minutes. They’re almost done,” Stiles says, adding more ingredients to each. “They just need to simmer a bit.”

Derek’s hand curves up over Stiles’s chest and tweaks a nipple.

“Not fair,” Stiles says, slapping his arm lightly, but Derek doesn’t let go.

“Bed.”

“Not yet,” Stiles says. “I’m so near done, Der -”

“Can’t you set a magical timer on them to turn them off in thirty minutes?” Derek says.

Stiles pauses and hums. “Yes, I can,” he says, casting the spell and then nearly dropping into Derek’s arms. “Thanks,” he murmurs, already mostly asleep.

“‘Course.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Isaac, if you see the man that gave you that juice, I want you to go to a teacher and ask to call me,” Stiles says. “Or signal Derek. And if you don’t feel well, you can still come home.” He kisses Isaac’s head. “Love you, kiddo.” Then he hands him his lunch and sends him off with the rest of the Hale pack (except the ones that don’t go to school, Stiles supposes).

“Babi?” Petey tugs on his sleeve.

“Yes, Petes?”

“What are we doing today?” She drinks the last of her milk and puts the glass in the dishwasher.

Stiles hums. “Well, Der told me yesterday that you were behind on your science—”

“Babi,” she pleads.

“So you’ll do an extra thirty minutes today of science,” he continues. “And then we’ll do a wards walk with Danny at around one.”

“Really?” She beams. “Can I put another rune on them?”

Stiles hums and considers. “Most likely. We’ll see.”

“Is Papa going to come on the wards walk?” she asks, following Stiles around as he cleans up a little.

“Maybe,” Stiles says. “Papa has work to do, though, Petes.”

“So do you,” she says. “Can I go ask him?”

Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I guess. Make sure not to bother him, Petes.”

“I won’t, Babi.” She races off to find the alpha.

Stiles gathers the homeschool materials and puts them on the table in the homework room. Petey comes back down, a little pouty, saying that Derek said he has a little too much work to do.

“Sorry, sweetie, but Papa’s been really busy with pack stuff recently,” Stiles says and then points to the pile of work. “What do you want to start with?”

“English?” she says hopefully.

Stiles hums. “Alright, I guess.” He pulls out _Number the Stars_ from the pile of book Stiles uses to teach her (none of them are the ones the state public school uses; he’s staunchly against using the same teaching method for every student and those books just encourage memorization instead of learning, anyway). “Where are you?”

“I finished chapter twelve,” she says. “How much do you want me to read?”

He hums and taps his chin. “Read chapter thirteen and take notes on it. If you do that quickly enough, you can read chapter fourteen if you want to.” He waggles his finger with a small smile. “Make sure to take good notes, Petes, not fast ones, okay?”

“Yes, Babi,” she says seriously.

“Alright. I’m going to go start a few salves I need to make for the website and then set Mike and Danny up for a few hours.” He glances around the room, digs the [dreaded] dictionary out of where Petey last hid it underneath old coloring books, and slaps it on the table in front of her. “Two more things. First off, stop hiding the dictionary. Not only is it futile, because I find it every time, but I’m not going to stop making you use it. I know you hate it. Secondly, look up any words in _Number the Stars_ that you don’t know and copy out the definitions.”

“Yes, Babi,” she mutters.

“Good.” He kisses her head. “Come get me when you’re done, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He nods and takes the stairs two at a time to the third floor. He first pops in on Derek. “Hey, babe.”

“Hey,” Derek says, distractedly rubbing Stiles’s hip for a moment.

“You sure you can’t make a little time today to go on a wards walk with us?” he asks. “You always love wards walks.”

Derek looks up and gives Stiles a guilty look. “I need to do a bunch of stuff today, including researching Daehler a bit more.”

Stiles straddles Derek in the chair. “Okay.”

Derek’s hands settle on Stiles’s hips, and he leans in to start on Stiles’s neck before he shakes his head and the hungry look in his eyes dissipates. “Stiles…”

Stiles leans in and kisses him for a moment. “It’s fine. I understand. I just…wanted to be close.”

Derek nips his neck. “I wish we could, but you have Petey doing schoolwork and Mike and Danny opening the front door right now.”

Stiles clambers off. “Mmm, any ideas on how to break the remaining vestiges of the binding on Danny’s power?”

Derek considers. “I dunno, how would you get the remaining bits of wolsfbane out of my system?”

A look of understanding dawns on Stiles’s face. “I’m such an idiot,” he breathes. “I didn’t even think about what the ink was, I just broke the tattoo…” He races out of Derek’s room and grabs Danny from where he is on the stairs, pulling him up the stairs. He pushes Danny onto the small examination table in his lab and yanks his pants down just slightly before turning around and searching for his stash of clean needles.

“Um. Stiles?”

Mike comes into the room more calmly and simply sets himself up with his charms, rather used to Stiles’s eccentricity. 

“Stiles, why am I lying on a table with my pants pulled down?” Danny asks monotonously, though he, too, is used to Stiles being weird as all hell.

“I need to test it,” Stiles says, finally procuring the needles with a grin. Then it drops and is replaced with a frown. “Hmm. A scalpel will be better, I think.”

“Um. Stiles. What, exactly, are you planning on doing to me?”

“The tattoo,” Stiles says. “I need to test what it’s made of. It’s why you’re still struggling. Whoever did this to you put something in the ink that would block your magic specifically. And I need to know what that is, so I can counteract whatever it is and release the magic.”

“What if it’s dangerous?” Danny asks quietly, sitting up. “What if there’s a reason they inked me up?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Stiles mutters two spells. “Alright, I spelled the area. This shouldn’t hurt. Tell me if it does.”

“Um, aren’t you supposed to, like, clean those?” Danny asks, shying away from the blade.

“I did,” Stiles says, blinking at him. “And my hands.” He frowns. “I’m not stupid.” He goes back to looking at Danny’s small tattoo speculatively. Then he brings the scalpel to it and feels Danny tense up. “Relax. You won’t feel a thing.” He pokes the scalpel in. “See?”

“Oh.” Danny relaxes a little. “What about the blood?”

Stiles holds up a towel. “Relax. Look away and let me do my job, alright?”

Danny nods and squeezes his eyes together. Stiles shakes his shoulders out a little and cuts the tattoo out of Danny’s skin. He checks to make sure he’s gotten all of the ink and then presses the towel over the wound. He sets the skin in a little petri dish.

“Just a few more secs,” Stiles says cheerfully. “I just need to do a healing spell real quick.” He takes the towel off, mutters a few words, and then mops up the remaining blood as the flesh begins to knit together. He undoes the numbing spell, too. “Alright,” he says, moving the petri dish, scalpel, towel, and needles from where Danny can see them. “We’re good. You can look now.”

Danny sets to inspecting his hip. “You can’t tell it happened. You can’t even tell anything was ever there.”

Stiles shrugs and draws out a small amount of the ink, casting a few spells on it and frowning when nothing happens. Then he sighs. “Mike, can you toss me the spellbook in the top left drawer of the desk?”

Mike frowns as he pulls out the little tiny faded-leather spellbook. “What’s in here?”

“Powerful earth spells.” Stiles’s voice cracks a little as he opens the book. He begins to speak the spell at the ink in the air. He can feel the earth rumbling to help him. He can also feel his power quickly draining.

Just before his power is out, he gets what the ingredient is. He grins, quickly, at Danny. Then he passes out.

//

“Stiles,” Derek says, waving the ammonia pouch under his nose. It burns like this wasn’t the first time Derek’d tried it.

“Jesus, you know I hate those. I can’t see why hockey players use them,” Stiles says. Then he coughs and sits up. He’s in their bed. “Sorry I took you from work.”

Derek hands him a smoothie (sugar, protein, drinkable. The perfect post-magic energy source). “It’s fine. You terrified Danny and Mike, though.” He nods to the two witchlets. “You dropped on them and I’m pretty sure Danny screamed. Mike came and got me. I don’t think they knew what it’d take out of you. Earth book?”

“Earth book,” Stiles confirms, giving him a guilty look.

Derek shakes his head. “I wish you’d tell me before you used it. I could be prepared, then.”

“It worked, if it makes you feel better,” Stiles offers.

Derek pecks his forehead. “Drink your smoothie. Petey came up here, by the way, while you were K-O’d. I set her to doing her hour and a half of science. She’s been working for, oh, forty-five minutes now.”

Stiles nods and slurps at the straw before turning to Danny and Mike. “Sorry for scaring you. I forgot how much that spell takes out of me.” He pushes himself out of the bed. Derek automatically catches him when he stumbles. He slurps again at the smoothie and takes a more successful step towards the door. “C’mon, warlocklets. We’ve still got work to do.” He hums. “And I should make up an antidote to break the spell on Danny.”

“Are you…okay?” Danny asks, though he follows Stiles.

“Of course,” Stiles says, finishing the smoothie. “Between the smoothie and my forced nap, I’m back up to having enough energy to whip up a quick neutralizer. Then I’ll take another nap.” He rubs his hands together. “We have a wards walk to do today, after all.” He grins as he begins to mix as many neutralizers, or things that could neutralize this spell, as he has into a paste. “I have a few new ones I want to add. Creative ones.” He looks at the mixture and adds a little more water. He really only needs the masterwort, witches’ berry, harefoot, sweet bay, and basam, but the others shouldn’t hurt. They’re good backup, at the least.

“Um. What’s in that?” Danny asks, looking nervously at the mixture.

Stiles looks at it and suddenly remembers that he forgot to put the spell over it that would make the variety of poisonous herbs he just mashed up for Danny, well, not poisonous. He casts the spell and then pours boiling water over the mixture. “I would recommend plugging your nose,” he says. “This won’t taste good.”

“Will it kill me?”

“Hopefully not,” Stiles says. “After you’ve drank that, start on the next chapter of the basic magic book. Mike, I want five more of the charms from the book by the end of today as well as an hour’s worth of work on that one charm and at least three new charms for the fight.”

“Sure,” they agree, but Danny looks a little queasy as he sniffs the tea.

Stiles turns and returns to his room. “If Petey comes by, tell her to start her math,” the says woozily to Derek, who nods and scoots over on his desk chair to pull the covers over Stiles.

//

Petey hums as she walks, hand tightly grasping Stiles’s. “Babi, is Danny and Mike going to put wards up?” she asks.

“ _Are_ they,” Stiles corrects automatically, “and Mike, maybe. Danny…I’m not sure. How are you feeling, Danny?”

“Well, aside from the lingering taste of that poison - I mean tea - that you made me drink, I’m quite alright,” Danny drawls.

Stiles laughs and stops them in front of a tree. “Danny, tell me what you see when you look at the tree,” he says.

“Um. A tree.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “No, look at the magic of the tree.”

“Stiles, it’s a tree.”

“No, Babi’s right,” Petey says seriously. “Babi, you can first see its roots into the earth. They’re glowing all bright and colorful, so it’s a healthy tree. Then you can see the runes you put on it.” She frowns. “But I only understand what one of the runes is. It’s the hunter-protection rune.”

“Good, Petey,” Stiles says. “Danny, you just got outdone by a nine-year-old. Try again. Describe what you see to me. Use your magical sight, not your human one.”

“How do I do that?” Danny says, quickly frustrated. “How do you do it?”

“I layer them on top of each other,” Stiles says easily. “I’m constantly seeing everything I would see from my magical sight as well as my human sight. But when I first did it…hmm. Deaton told me to shut my eyes and then hurled balls of magic at me until I could see them coming. I don’t like that tactic, though, unless you—”

“No, I’m good,” Danny says quickly. 

“Give it another try,” Stiles encourages. “You can do it.”

Danny closes his eyes and frowns. When they pop back open, there’s a light sheen of yellow-green covering his eyes. He stares at the tree for a moment, saying nothing. Then, “I see what Petey was talking about. The biggest roots into the ground are green like Stiles’s magic.” He frowns. “I don’t know what any of the runes mean.”

Stiles grins. “Good job, Danny, but now try to meld your magical sight with your human one. You’d look a bit odd walking around with yellow-green eyes.”

Danny chuckles and does as he says. It takes him a few minutes, but he finally opens his eyes again with just a tiny sparkle of yellow-green sheen if you look closely. “This is giving me a headache.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Petey assures him.

“The headache?”

“No, the magical sight.” Petey rolls her eyes at him. “Babi, what are the runes on the tree?”

“You were right about the one against hunters,” Stiles says. “Do you know exactly what it does?”

“No,” Petey says.

Stiles brings up an image of the rune as he talks. “It dazes them, confuses them, sends them elsewhere. Everything with these wards is based upon the intent of the person crossing the borders. If they have even the slightest intent to hurt us, it will defend against them.”

“No offense?” Danny frowns. “Wouldn’t it make sense to be proactive?”

“No, if we hurt the wrong person, it could come back to bite us in the ass,” Stiles says. “Mike? Anything to add?”

Mike frowns and bites his lip. “No, not at the moment.” Then he crosses his arms. “What’s the rune lowest to the bottom? I get that the middle one is a territory marker.”

“It’s against aerial attacks,” Stiles says, bringing an image of it up. “Anything, really, in the air - machine, animal, bullets, arrows… You name it, this rune will redirect it.” 

“And how many types of defense do you have in here?” Mike asks, pointing to the tree.

“Well, they’re not just stored in the trees,” Stiles says. “They’re in the air, in the ground…everywhere along a certain line.” He waves hand and millions appear in various colors for brief moments. “And there are many.” He grins. “But hey, I’m open to any type of peaceful or neutral defense you guys can think up.” He waves his hand again and all of them disappear. “The important thing to know about my runes is that they’re all made in an earth magic way. The magic flows like the wind or a stream rather than, well, like Petey’s for example, which is like windows and doors, right, hon?”

“Yeah,” she says.

“Alright, Petes, you’ve done this before, so give it a try. Why don’t you give me…an anti-hunter rune,” he says. “Visualize what you want it to do. If you can visualize it, you can make it.”

Petey squinches her eyes together and holds out her hands. It takes a little while, but soon, a bright-glowing orange rune against hunters appears in her hands. This is more powerful than the first wind one she’d made. She opens her eyes and hands it to Stiles, who examines it for a minute before releasing it into the wards. It glows once and then disappears. 

“Good job, Petey,” Stiles says. “That was a very good rune.” He kisses her head. “Danny? Mike? Do you want to give it a go?”

Mike nods and closes his eyes, holding his hands out as Petey did. It takes him a little longer, but, soon, he’s created quite a nice anti-fire rune. Stiles nods, takes it from him, and deposits it into the wards.

“Alright, Danny, you’re up next.” Stiles waves his arm at the wards. “Give it a go.”

“What do I guard against?” Danny asks, hesitating.

“Anything you want, my friend,” Stiles says. “What are you afraid of?”

Danny doesn’t say anything for a second. Then he holds his hands out and a rune just easily pops out into them. 

Stiles takes it silently. It’s a rune against sickness and injury. He places is into the wards, conjures up another anti-fire rune, more powerful than Mike’s, and then places it into the wards as well. He motions for his students to sit. “When you put a rune into the wards, it feeds off a little bit of your magic at all times. When used properly, they can help build the amount of magic you store within you at the same time as managing attention problems and making sure you’re always using magic. It’s rather like training to do, I don’t know, an ironman triathlon. You have to work up to it, but it’s a good thing to do. Mike, if you feel comfortable, you can add a few more runes to the wards.”

“What about me and Danny?” Petey asks.

“You already have two in there, Petey, and you’re just a kid. You can add a third in a few weeks,” Stiles says.

“And me?” Danny asks.

Stiles fixes him with a long gaze. “I want to try something with you first.” He turns back to Petey. “What schoolwork did you finish this morning?”

“English, an hour and a half of science, half an hour of latin, and math with Papa,” she says.

Stiles nods slowly. “Alright, I want you to do half an hour of magical history and half an hour of greek, latin, or proto-germanic - you can choose.”

“Proto-germanic,” she says quickly.

“Alright, that sounds fine. Then I want you to make a few of our backorder potions until everyone gets home from school.”

“What do I do then?”

“Practice reading them,” Stiles says with a grin. Petey loves it when he lets her read her siblings (they hate it).

She hugs him tightly. “Thanks, Babi.”

“Mike, when you’re finished up, you can go do whatever work you need to do today on charms,” Stiles says.

Mike tosses another two runes into the wards and offers Petey his hand. They walk off towards the house, Petey attempting to drag Mike and having no success. Stiles chuckles at the young witchlet before turning back to Danny.

“Um. This isn’t going to involve any more physical harm of me, is it?” Danny says.

“No, of course not. I just…I think I have an idea of what your magic may be.” Stiles beckons for Danny to sit again. “I got the idea when you were able to make my rune so easily when you’d been struggling with earth magic. Breaking the tattoo broke the last of its hold on your magic.” Stiles magics a medium-sized rock over. “Try playing with this.” When Danny’s magic reaches at it, Stiles waggles his finger. “No. Try it like a flow, like a river or wind. Think about scooping it up and having it rushed around on a wind.”

Danny does it, almost immediately.

Stiles smiles, pleased. “Alright, set it somewhere. Next test - try to read my emotions. Look for windows and doors that you can open and peer through.”

Danny frowns but does as he says. “You…you’re stressed about this dark mage. You’re kind of overworked but you don’t think so. You, um, Derek rejected you and that hurts you a little bit right now. You, um, also want to jump his bones. You fear what happened to your mother—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Stiles says. “Let’s try something else.” He taps his chin. “Try to control the ants in that anthill.”

Danny does it, but without any instruction from Stiles. “I didn’t need help for that,” he says, frowning.

“Try the birds in the trees,” Stiles suggests.

Danny again does it.

“Hm.” Stiles crosses his arms. “Okay. Try to heal me.” And without warning, he draws a line down his arm with his finger (which cuts like a knife with the spell he cast and hurts like a bitch) and lets the blood drip onto the soil.

“Stiles!” Danny says.

“Heal it,” Stiles orders.

Danny puts his hand over it and his arms convulse once before falling away to reveal a perfectly healed wound. “Stiles!”

“Alright, let’s go. I know what you are.” Stiles stands and offers Danny a hand. “Sorry about the arm, by the way, but I needed to check.”

“Check what?”

“You’re somewhat of a magical chameleon,” Stiles says. “You can use the magics of others for short periods of time. You also have another type of magic - control magic. You can control small animals for a little while. With practice, you can probably control the wolves, even, if only for five or ten minutes.”

Danny grimaces. “Controlling others. That’s kind of a dirty magic.”

“I imagine it’s why your abilities were locked.” Stiles holds the door for Danny. “But now that I know what you are, I can give you better exercises. And Shawn’s a fairy. He can get you little animals to control.”

“Stiles?” Derek asks, coming onto the stairs. “Why do you smell like blood?”

“Training exercise,” the mage says calmly. “Go back to work, Der. I’m fine.”

Derek nods and disappears.

“Do I still have to do potionswork?” Danny asks hopefully.

“Of course,” Stiles says with a grin. “What kind of sadistic coven-leader would I be if I didn’t make you do my dirty work?”

Danny sighs. “You’re a horrible person.”

“I know. It keeps me awake at night. Now, I can show you how to make either the anti-wolsfbane potion, which we need to restock, or the healing potion, which we…also need to restock.” Stiles gets out a pot for the warlocklet.

“Healing,” Danny says quickly. “Frankly, I’m worried I’d mess up the wolfsbane one.”

“Fair,” Stiles says. “Here’s the recipe book. Start out with a tiny batch, so we can make sure you understand how to do it without wasting ingredients. This one requires a little bit of healing magic, but I think you’ll do just fine. Let’s start with the ingredients.” Stiles nods to the cabinets. “Get them out.”

//

Stiles yanks off his shirt, jeans, and socks and climbs into the bed, nosing lazily into Derek’s neck before propping up on his elbow and toying with Derek’s drawstring. “So—”

“Not tonight, Stiles, I’m tired,” Derek says, pushing his hands away.

Immediately Stiles draws away. He moves all the way to the other side of the bed with not another sound towards Derek. Danny was right earlier when he said that it had upset Stiles when Derek rejected Stiles this morning.

And now again. Twice in one day. That didn’t happen to Stiles with Derek. Ever. And Derek didn’t make a move to wrap around Stiles like he does every night.

It takes Derek a minute, but he soon feels the combination of Stiles drawing away, physically and with the bond, and Stiles’s scent changing. “What’s wrong?” he asks, making an effort to sit up and look at the mage.

“Did I do something?” Stiles asks, fists clenching in the sheets.

Derek cocks his head with a frown. “What? No. You didn’t do anything wrong. Why?”

“You rejected me twice and didn’t try to cuddle like you always do,” Stiles says, refusing to meet Derek’s gaze.

Relief oozes from Derek, and the wolf draws him into an embrace. “Stiles, love, I was really busy and now I’m tired. You’re beautiful and hot as hell and amazing and I love you, but I just wasn’t feeling up to sex today. It has nothing to do with you.” He kisses the mage’s cheek. “I love you.”

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek. “Okay. You scared me a little bit.”

Derek laughs. “You don’t ever need to worry about me not loving you, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles agrees. He hugs Derek again. “I love you too.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one. I've been working on it for a while. Thanks for reading! (PS: the fairytale is original [or as original as fairy tales can get. I made it up.])
> 
> Also: warning: the rating's a bit over teen in this chapter, but it's not explicit or mature, so....use your discretion?

Derek blankets Stiles, mouth still idly working at his neck. Stiles runs a hand up and down Derek’s shoulders and back lazily.

“Hey, Der, Stiles,” Cora says, popping into the room. “Um, we need your help.”

Derek growls lazily at his sister.

“Babi,” Petey says. “Babi, we need you.”

“Ask Peter,” Stiles mumbles in their direction.

“No, we need you to do a spell,” Cora says guiltily.

“What did you do?” Derek asks, opening one eye.

“Um… _we_ didn’t do anything?” Cora offers.

“Then why the hell do you need us during the two hours per week when everyone’s supposed to be gone?” Derek asks, sitting up and glaring at his sister.

“Xela and Adam are gone,” Cora says quietly.

“Gone like…?”

“Like we were doing the normal run and they…ran off,” Cora says. “Petey tried to track them but couldn’t, and Peter couldn’t catch their scents.”

Stiles groans and drags himself out of bed, tugging a random pair of basketball shorts over his hips. “C’mon, Petey,” he says, yawning and making his way to the workshop. He casts the spell over a bowl of water, olive oil, and crushed mint leaves. “You should be able to find them from this,” he says, yawning and handing the bowl to Cora. The liquid stays smooth and doesn’t splosh due to the magic.

Cora looks in the bowl and then nods. “I know where they are. They’re in Lahey territory.”

“Hurry and get them, then,” Stiles says.

“No, I’m going to go,” Derek says, appearing in their doorway in a pair of cargo shorts (Stiles can see boxers poking out of the top, too). “And then I’m going to drag them here by the scruffs of their necks, like the naughty puppies they were.”

Stiles chuckles, yawns and starts down the stairs, Derek and Cora on his trail. He stops in the kitchen while sister follows brother to the door. “Der,” she says, “don’t you want backup?”

Derek pauses for a moment. “Stiles, where’s that charm you tested on me a while ago?”

“There should be one in the charm drawer,” Stiles says. “You know what it looks like, right?”

“Yeah.” Derek comes back into the house, grabs the charm, puts it on the bracelet he wears, and then leaves. “I’ll be back soon enough, Stiles.”

Stiles pulls out ingredients for bigos, one of the Polish recipes his mother taught him and his father loves. He begins to prepare the meat and sauerkraut and mushrooms and other stew ingredients. Cooking, to him, is like taking a gulp of air after swimming a long way underwater. He is vaguely aware of Liam silent by his side, but the boy knows how to work between Stiles and everything else and somehow knows exactly what Stiles wants him to do without Stiles telling him to.

It’s not long, maybe only an hour (the bigos is bubbling away on the stove and Liam is cutting up carrots and kale and spinach for a salad), when Stiles feels Derek come close to the house. He goes to the door, wiping his hands on the half-apron he wears.

Derek, true to his word, has dragged them to the house by the scruffs of their necks. He releases them when he gets to the porch. “Don’t move an inch,” he growls.

Isaac soon appears and grips onto Stiles’s leg. “Der,” Stiles calls.

Derek’s gaze snaps over. His eyes are tinged alpha-red. When he sees Isaac, his entire face softens and the tinge fades to the normal blue-green-grey. “Hey, Isaac,” he says. “Why don’t you go do some homework?”

“Are you going to hurt them?” Isaac asks, voice trembling but gaze steady enough.

“No, but Stiles and I need to talk to them without any kiddos around,” Derek says. “You think you can let us do that?”

“Yes, Alpha,” Isaac says, bowing his head and retreating to the homework room.

Derek sighs and then says, “I didn’t mean to scare him.” 

Stiles sets a hand on Derek’s bare back. “It’s okay, Der. We still have to…”

“Oh. Yeah.” Derek’s gaze hardens again, and he turns and leads the way back outside. “Up,” he orders the teens.

“Derek—” Adam starts. 

“ _Move_ ,” Derek growls, the red tinge back in his eyes.

The teenagers skitter away from Derek and towards their house, eyes down. Derek carries Stiles (who’s not wearing any shoes). Stiles knows better than to argue when Derek’s got the alpha tinge. It won’t do any good. Derek’s just going to be really protective.

When they get to the teens’ dorm, Derek sets Stiles down. “Cora, Rye, get down here!” he yells.

“Ow, no need to yell,” Xela says.

The look Derek gives her could make flowers retreat into the ground.

Cora appears quickly, hands tucked behind her back. “Rye’s in the bathroom, Derek. She’ll be down in a moment.”

A bit later, Rye races down the stairs and stands next to Cora, in the same position but more obviously uncomfortable.

“I think it’s time we revisited the rules of this pack,” Derek says, flashing his eyes at the two teenagers standing cowed against the wall. “Cora, care to share any?”

“I mean, I, uh, the biggest one would be to respect the rules and you as alpha,” Cora half-stutters.

“Derek, you’re scaring them,” Stiles says. “Cora and Rye haven’t done anything wrong.”

“And we have?” Xela challenges.

“Yes,” Derek says. “Anything to say, Rye, Cora?”

“Sir, um, I…don’t know what happened,” Rye says.

“Weren’t you on the run?”

Rye’s face flushes. “I was, um, I…”

“She didn’t feel well,” Cora says quickly.

Rye sighs. “No, that’s not true… I was Facetiming my girlfriend,” she says.

Derek freezes for a second and then gruffly says, “Stiles and I said you shouldn’t date anyone so soon.”

“I know, sir, but no one knows except, well, now, everyone here, but yesterday it was just Cora and me that knew.” Rye sighs. “Sorry.”

“I told her it was okay,” Cora says. “Don’t get mad at her, Der.”

Derek sighs. “Adam and Xela ran off into Lahey territory during the run.”

“Are you fucking _insane_?” Rye asks. “Lahey territory?”

“I didn’t know it was Lahey territory,” Adam squeaks. “I’m sorry, Derek, I didn’t know.”

Xela stays quiet. “I brought him there,” she finally says. “I hate these runs. I convinced him to run off with me. I felt it when we passed over the border, but I distracted Adam.”

“Xela—” Adam starts.

“No, it was my fault,” she insists.

“Yeah, but I went along,” he says.

“Adam—”

“Shh,” Derek says. “Rye, Cora, you can go. Big house.” He waits until the two teens are gone and then says, “Let’s sit.” He has his hands on Stiles’s hips before Stiles can move and pulls Stiles down into his lap immediately. “We need to talk consequences.”

Neither teen says anything.

“Good, you’ve accepted that you’ll get them. I—”

“Der, maybe we could talk a bit more about why this was a problem,” Stiles says.

Derek sighs. “Well, first off, those runs are important because they distribute pack scents throughout the territory. They’re mandatory for a reason.” He whuffs at them. “You should know by this point that we’re taking down the Laheys in a few months,” he says. “And as members of our pack, you shouldn’t be on their land. We just have to hope that your scent goes stale before they get to it.”

“Or what?”

“Or they have every right to come and demand payment,” Derek says. “And besides, I highly doubt Alpha Reed allowed you to go onto other territories.”

“No,” Adam says. “But shouldn’t the Laheys realize that we just, like, stepped over and then you came and got us?”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Adam, the Laheys are _known_ for being ruthless, and, besides, it’s not exactly a great time to get into a fight with them.” He considers. “Alright, I’d kind of like to cage you for the full moon as punishment, but, what with us having the meeting with the Reed pack next time, that’s not an option.”

“So…what is it, then?”

“Well, firstly, you’re grounded until further notice,” Derek says. “That means straight home after school and no outings on weekends. You also can’t go with the pack if we leave the property for whatever reason.” He nods to Stiles, who casts a spell to make them come home when not in school.

Adam wrinkles his nose at the feeling of the spell settling over them. “What’s the second part?” he asks suspiciously.

Derek grins. “Well, see, normally Stiles has my uncle doing all of the chores around the property.”

“You’re going to have us doing housework? We’re already on the chore lists,” Xela says, frowning.

“No, this is different,” Stiles says, standing. “Since you guys will have your weekend free, you two and Peter will be doing a whole host of things we need in preparation for spring.”

The two meet gazes, and neither looks happy. “Like what?”

“Hoeing up the garden, planting charmed trees, _completely_ cleaning out the chicken coops, stuff like that,” Stiles says. He turns and plants a kiss on Derek’s head. Then he changes his mind and kisses his mate on the lips deeply. “Love you, babes. I’m going to go finish dinner.”

Derek grips Stiles’s hip with one hand and cups the back of his neck with the other for another kiss. “Okay.”

//

Stiles nestles into the hug from Peter. The man gives damn good hugs. It’s comforting, since none of them want to be up this early.

“Thanks, Peter,” Stiles mumbles. “Sorry to saddle you with them.”

Peter nearly cackles as he releases the mage. “Sorry? This just means hours and hours with which to make them guilty and torture them. _Thank you_ for the opportunity.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Don’t be too mean, Peter.” He smiles at Xela and Adam. “Only, like, four hours till breakfast, kiddos.”

“Four and a half,” Xela says, but without venom. “We’re awake at four-thirty. On a _Saturday_.”

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” Stiles says firmly and then goes back upstairs.

//

Derek boosts Stiles up and spins him around, grinning. “I can still lift you,” he boasts.

“Stop bragging, you oaf,” Stiles says rolling his eyes. “And it’s not that much of a feat.”

Derek kisses Stiles’s neck and then lets him down. “What’s on the list today?”

Stiles hands him the sticky note their grocery list is scribbled on. “Whatever’s on there.”

“I think there’s been a few additions,” Derek says drily.

Stiles frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I think the kids added some junk food,” he says. “Unless you put ‘reeses, kit kats, ice cream, s’mores pop tarts, watermelon sour patches’ on the list.”

Stiles laughs. “No, I didn’t. No candy around with my dad.” He loops his arm through Derek’s. “How are Xela and Adam?”

Derek shrugs. “Okay.”

Stiles arches an eyebrow and puts a bunch of flour into the cart. They’re running out of bread, and Derek has to make more today (they make as many as thirty loaves and freeze them, because the household of twenty goes through bread like it’s toilet paper). “Expand.”

“I mean, they’re not psyched to be stuck in and working with Peter all weekend,” Derek says. “But they understand, I think, why it had to be done.”

Stiles sits on the end of the cart as Derek pushes it slowly. “How are you?” he asks.

“Scared.”

“Of what?” Stiles asks softly, taking all the jars of crunchy peanut butter off the shelf.

“Our pack has so many kids, Stiles,” Derek says tightly. “It would be way too easy for Lahey or Reed to wipe us out. If Lahey catches wind of this conspiracy, he could kill every member of our pack, and there’d be nothing we could do about it.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Stiles says firmly. “Everything will be fine, Der.”

“Maybe I should send the kids to live with my family in New York,” Derek muses.

“No, Der, that’d make it obvious we’re plotting something,” Stiles says. “It’s the middle of the school year. You’d normally never send them there.”

Derek sighs. “You’re right.”

Stiles grins, kisses the corner of Derek’s mouth, and puts two big containers of yeast into the cart. “I’m always right, dear.”

Derek rolls his eyes and begins lifting milk into the cart. “Scooch, mister ‘I’m always right.’ I need to put this where you’re sitting.”

Stiles shifts to a different part of the cart and then shifts back. “Der, you do great as alpha.”

“I was never meant to be alpha,” he says miserably. “It was supposed to be Laura. I should be a beta. I—”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Stiles says, not unkindly. “You’re a great alpha. Despite the weak pack, you haven’t given up any of your family’s land and you haven’t lost any members to bigger packs. You have wonderful alliances, and no one has cause to injure you.”

“Those are things _you_ did,” Derek says, putting all of the cucumbers on the shelf into their cart.

“A, that’s not true, and B, if it were, then you still chose a fucking amazing emissary,” Stiles says, kissing his mate again.

“Settle down, boys,” an old man says to them. “This is a supermarket, not hell.” He sniffs in distaste and pushes his cart-walker along.

Stiles chuckles. For all the homophobia, it was a pretty good insult. “Anyway, Der, everything will be okay.”

Derek frowns. “I hope.”

“It will,” Stiles says firmly, putting a ton of frozen berries into the cart. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“I guess it’s going to be as you say, then,” Derek says, trying for a joke and not really succeeding.

But Stiles smiles and squeezes his hand anyway.

//

“Is Rye going to get in trouble for dating someone?” Xela says, plopping down across from Stiles.

Stiles raises an eyebrow and levels a cup of coconut oil. “You’re not supposed to be up here.”

“I asked Derek,” she says. “Now, is she?”

“Why is that of concern to you?” Stiles says, dumping the cup into a pot on the stove and putting more oil into the cup. “It doesn’t affect you.”

“You punished us for going a step over our territory line and you’re not going to punish her for going against one of your rules and then keeping it a secret?” Xela asks, frowning.

“I never said that,” Stiles says, patient. “I asked why you cared. It really isn’t your business.” He begins to crush mint in his spelled mortar and pestle, murmuring more spells over them.

“Please just tell me?” she says, the hint of frustration running through her voice.

“No. If and when we punish you, you can ask Rye to tell you.” Stiles dumps the mint into the mixture. This is just a hair potion, for humans, and he stills spells it. (They work, what can he say?)

“You and Derek are so much harder on me and Cora and Adam! It’s not fair.” She glares at him. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be just or whatever?” She crosses her arms and sticks out a hip.

Stiles stirs the stuff in the pot for a minute, trying to keep his cool. “I have given you my answer, Xela. I understand that you may not like it, but it’s my final one.”

Xela waits for a little while, glaring at him as he goes around and continues to work on the mixture before turning the heat down and letting it simmer.

He bows his head slightly to her. “I’m leaving the workshop for the moment being, so I’m going to need you to leave, too. We can’t have you in here without me.”

“I won’t leave until you tell me.”

Stiles takes another deep breath. She’s testing them. He feels Derek nudge at the bond curiously and sends back that he’s okay for the moment. “Xela, I have to say, I rather pride myself on being the more easygoing of Derek and myself on most occasions, but you’re really testing my patience. I have a lot of shit to do today. If you don’t listen to me, I _will_ get Derek, and he _will_ be angry. Just because he’s the alpha does not mean you don’t have to listen to me.” He holds the door open. “Now, please leave.”

Derek silently pads up the stairs, and Stiles glares at him minutely. He crosses his arms but says nothing before padding into the room and telling Stiles, _Relax, you can have your power fight or whatever. I thought my presence might encourage her, even if I don’t get involved._

“Xela,” Stiles says firmly. “Out. Now.” He can see her jaw clenching as she tries to decide how much she’ll fight.

“Fine.” She stomps past him.

He closes the door and activates the runes. Then he goes into his room and pulls out his laptop, saying nothing to Derek. He begins to update the products he’ll have ready for the website by tomorrow and sees people buying them almost immediately. He chews on his tongue as he wills himself to be away from the bond and not say anything to Derek.

Derek sits on the bed and just looks at Stiles for a moment, only moving to itch his nose.

Stiles maintains his composure for just long enough to finish the updates. Then he closes his laptop and stares back at Derek, even though his frustration is clearly outlined on his face.

“I think I understand, but why don’t you tell me?” Derek says softly, still just looking at Stiles. The look is understanding and soft and yet still frustrates Stiles.

“They don’t respect me like they respect you,” Stiles says, crossing his arms.

Derek hums and then asks, “Our children or Cora’s mates?”

“The mates,” Stiles says, frowning. “You saw how long it took me to get Xela to listen to me.”

“Adam and Rye respect you.” Derek has no intonation whatsoever while he says these things.

“But Xela doesn’t!”

“It’s in her personality, Stiles. She tests us. Besides, any respect you have is earned. Any I have is demanded.” Derek finally breaks the eye contact and stares determinedly at the faded blue duvet cover on their bed.

Stiles purses his lips, and, in that moment, he understands a little more what being alpha is like. Derek can never say and do as he pleases. 

Even when he was to be a beta, Derek’s parents weren’t the happiest when Derek chose Stiles to, well, at first, date. When it became clear they were mates, Talia was even more disappointed. It had nothing to do with Stiles himself, no, Talia and Marcus Hale loved their emissary-to-be, but Derek, as a strong adult male that survived to adulthood in a small pack, was expected to take two or even three female mates and reproduce like crazy. Now, Stiles may not be a genius at biology _and_ chemistry, but he knew that he did _not_ have the right parts to birth wolf puppy after wolf puppy. But when Derek and Stiles quietly explained that this wasn’t going away, that they thought they might even be true mates, Talia simply hugged Stiles and Marcus not-so-subtly sent him papers about the foster system, adoption agencies, surrogates, and a werewolf adoption lawyer.

Then Derek’s family and mother and sister, the alpha and alpha-to-be, were killed by hunters. Suddenly, everything rested on Derek. Every move he made would change something for his pack, his loved ones. Derek still had Deaton to advise him, though, and Stiles was to be coming home from Stanford as soon as he could. They managed for a while while Derek learned to be an alpha and Stiles graduated. Then Deaton was killed by the Laheys (pre-treaty).

Stiles and Derek spent the summer negotiating with Lahey, who Stiles is pretty sure only gave them the treaty because he knew his mage was a whole hell of a lot weaker than Stiles.

But really, Stiles is the only freedom that Derek has had in a long time. And control of the pack, to an extent, is necessary for Derek to maintain. For Stiles to complain about one person not respecting him is…well…insensitive, especially when there’s extra pressure on Derek at the moment.

Stiles leans forward and grabs Derek’s hands. “You may have originally demanded it, Der, but, by now, you’ve earned their respect.”

Derek searches Stiles’s face. “What were you thinking about?”

“Before,” Stiles says simply, moving his hands to Derek’s thighs. He rubs lightly, inching his hands up every few seconds. He loves the feeling of Derek’s muscley thighs under his hands, even through his jeans.

“Before like when?” Derek says, focused even as Stiles shifts to move closer.

“When we started dating,” Stiles says, hands on Derek’s belt. He lets them rest there, knowing they’re not quite done with the conversation (and it’s not fair to distract Derek with a blowjob).

“Why?”

“You’ve never gotten to be free in your life,” Stiles says softly. “At first you were the only male pack heir that had lived to adulthood. Then you were alpha. And now we have, what, thirteen minors living with us?”

Derek is quiet for a moment. “Yeah?”

“I’ve been lucky enough to, for the most part, decide my own fate,” Stiles says, pushing Derek’s shirt up enough to scritch his nails through Derek’s happy trail (which he is well aware Derek loves).

Derek shifts under Stiles slightly. He’s hard in his jeans. “I got to have you.” Stiles is getting hard, too.

Stiles leans in and kisses the werewolf. “I think our relationship was a win,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, watching hungrily as Stiles unbuttons and unzips his jeans and pulls him out. “Please, Stiles.” He has a tiny little whimper in his voice that gets to Stiles every time.

Stiles grins at the wolf and kneels between his legs. He’s just gotten his mouth onto Derek’s dick when there’s a knock at their door. He groans, pulls off, and covers Derek’s lap with a blanket (though he keeps his hand on Derek’s dick).

“Come in,” Stiles says, stilling his hand. Derek’s tense.

“Hey, son,” the sheriff says warmly. “Am I interrupting?”

Stiles ignores the question. “What’s up, Dad?”

“Peter just left for work. It was Xela’s turn to stay home from school, as I think you probably know, and she’s taking care of Ida. Allison and Mike will be over in about forty-five minutes. I have to go to work in about fifteen minutes, but I can do a quick chore, if you’d like.” The sheriff just leans on the door.

Stiles considers and, while he’s thinking, accidentally squeezes a little, making Derek whimper. “How’s the kitchen?”

“I can check up on the kitchen,” the sheriff says. “And Derek, do I want to know where my son’s hand is?”

Derek shakes his head, cheeks pink (with either embarrassment or sex, Stiles isn’t sure).

“ _Goodbye_ , Dad,” Stiles says, not so subtly.

“Be good, boys.” He turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Stiles grins at Derek and returns to his mate’s dick.

//

“Stiles, Derek, there’s another dead body in the woods,” Rye quietly informs them as she sets her bag down. “Aaannnd I think I might be sick.”

Stiles shoves a big metal bowl he was going to make salad in under her mouth. “Here. If you need to puke, do it in the toilet, but this is in case you can’t make it. Ask Peter to make you some of the tea in the yellow box.”

“Okay,” she says faintly.

“He’s in the homework room, tidying up a bit,” Stiles says. “Derek?”

Derek tosses him a sweatshirt and sneakers. The alpha doesn’t even have shoes on himself. “Ready?”

“Put shoes on,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes.

Derek pulls on sneakers and offers a hand to Stiles, who takes it and squeezes tightly. Derek moves his arm to be around Stiles, kissing Stiles’s temple. “I can go clean it up, if you want,” he offers. His left hand has the shovel dangling from it.

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t want you touching the charm, just in case he decides to reactivate it.”

“Should you be handling it?”

“I can protect myself.” Stiles frowns. “Der, what are we going to do when we find Daehler?”

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“He knows what we’re trying to do, and I guess he’s trying to do the same thing, but he’s doing it…differently. I think he’s a bit off his rocker.” Stiles crosses his arms. “How are we going to make sure he doesn’t turn on us?”

Derek is quiet for a moment. “You’ll think of something,” he says finally. “You’re a genius, Stiles.”

“He scares me more than Lahey’s entire pack,” Stiles says, taking Derek’s hand with his. “He’s not something I can protect us from. Just myself, maybe Petey.”

Derek sniffs the air and then changes their direction a little. “Everything will be okay,” he says, kissing Stiles’s temple again. “We’re almost there,” he adds.

“That sounds so innocent, when we’re going to find a dead Lahey and bury them,” Stiles says grimly.

“Someone’s there,” Derek says, letting go of Stiles and running. Stiles follows the wolf, slower, but still makes it there to see a deputy staring at the body.

“This is a crime scene, sirs. I’m going to have to ask you to vacate the scene,” he says calmly, even though even Stiles can smell the acrid stench of puke somewhere nearby.

“I’m Stiles Stilinski,” Stiles says. “The sheriff is my father. You’re going to give me your phone and your radio and I’m going to call him. This is not a case you need be involved in.” He glances at the body, a man in his forties with a salt-and-pepper beard. “Have you touched the body?”

“Mr. Stilinski, with all due respect—”

“Give him your radio and phone,” Derek says in his best “I’m going to hurt you if you don’t” voice.

“Derek, I had this under control,” Stiles says mildly as he accepts the phone and the radio. Then he takes his phone out and calls his dad. “Dad? Hey.”

“Hello, Stiles,” the sheriff says. “I’m kind of busy—”

“One of your new deputies stumbled across a dead Lahey,” Stiles says. “I think you need to come down here.”

“God damnit,” the sheriff says. “Just what I needed today. Where are you?”

“I’ll send the coordinates,” Stiles says. “We’re in the woods. Bring Parrish.”

“Why do you want the sheriff and Parrish?” the deputy asks, though he still looks at Derek with a nervous twitch.

“That’s a dead werewolf,” Stiles says. “He was killed by this -” he levitates the charm and brings it over to the deputy “- and my dad and Parrish are going to help us make sure the government doesn’t find out about our little mage problem.”

“What are you?”

“A more powerful mage,” Stiles says easily. “Sit.”

“Why?” If the guy got any more scared, Stiles is pretty sure he’d pee his pants.

“To wait for my dad,” Stiles says, settling back against Derek, between the wolf’s legs. (Derek is still glaring at the deputy. Stiles has been told that being glared at by Derek is one of the scarier things. Stiles isn’t sure he was ever scared of the wolf, not after Talia showed Stiles Derek’s rather impressive collection of carefully kept-up stuffed animals.)

“You didn’t touch the body, did you, kid?” Stiles asks.

“No,” the deputy says, frowning at Stiles. “And you can’t be older than me.”

“I’m twenty-six,” Stiles says.

“You look young,” the deputy says, and then Derek catches his eye again and he’s stuck there.

Derek only breaks eye contact with the near-whimpering deputy when he hears the sheriff. He lifts Stiles to his feet and offers the deputy a hand as well.

The deputy takes it and lets go as soon as he’s up. Then he grabs his gun and levels it at the wolf. “Get down. The sheriff can take you two into custody for treason.”

Derek just stares at the deputy. “You’re kidding, right? What part of ‘I’m a werewolf’ did you not understand?”

The deputy fires, and Derek just grits his teeth as it hits his leg. “What the fuck? You should be down!”

Stiles rolls his eyes, takes the gun from the deputy easily, and uses his magic to remove the bullet from Derek’s leg. The wolf leans on the mage as subtly as he can. The deputy still just stares at the two.

“Stiles?” the sheriff says, running into the clearing and then running to his son and hugging him tightly. “Are you okay? I heard a gunshot.”

“Your dumbass deputy shot my mate,” Stiles says. “Derek’ll be fine, but—”

“Sheriff, they’re conspiring!” the deputy insists. “We can arrest them.”

“I’m not going to arrest my son. He had nothing to do with this,” the sheriff says. “Parrish, come talk to the deputy. Derek and Stiles and I are going to deal with the body.”

“But Sheriff Stilinski—”

“No buts.” The sheriff turns to his son. “You sure you’re alright? Derek, do you need anything?”

Derek reaches for the water bottle in the sheriff’s hand. “I’ll be fine,” he says as the sheriff hands it to him. “Stiles took the bullet out.”

“I cannot believe he _shot_ you,” the sheriff says, shaking his head. “Alright, so, what do we have?”

Stiles helps Derek over closer to the body. “Lahey wolf, male, mid forties. Same MO as the others - the charm. I already took it.”

The sheriff hums and pokes at the body with his pen. “Have you found anything with this Daehler kid?”

“Well, not much,” Stiles admits. “Derek and I have been looking. We don’t know where he is.”

Parrish comes over. “Well, if he’s killing off Laheys, he’s probably with them.”

“Hmm,” Stiles says. “We hadn’t thought of that.”

Derek nods. “I’ll check it out when we get home, Stiles.”

“Everything handled with Anders?” the sheriff asks, nodding his head towards the deputy.

“Hopefully,” Parrish says. “He’s still a bit shaken up. I think he still thinks Stiles and Alpha Hale had something to do with this. You wanna go talk with him, Aleksy?”

“Sure,” the sheriff agrees, squeezing his son’s shoulder. “Derek, where are you going to bury him?”

“Lahey’s land,” Derek says. “Same as the last two. Lahey doesn’t care to come take them himself; I’ve asked.”

Sheriff shakes his head. “Do you need help?”

“Yes,” Stiles says before Derek can answer. “Can you do it, Parrish? I want to get Derek back to the house and check on his leg. He’s still bleeding.”

“It’s not that bad, Sti—”

“Not up for discussion,” Stiles says. “Parrish?”

“Of course. Just give me a shovel and show me where to put it.” Parrish holds his hand out for the shovel lying forgotten in the dirt. 

Stiles hands it to him and sets Derek on the ground, kissing his head. “I’ll be back, Der.” Then he helps Parrish heft the dead Lahey up and carry him to a spot over the border. “Thank you, Jordan,” he says.

“Of course,” Parrish says. “I’ll see you soon, Stiles.”

Stiles turns and goes back to Derek, boosting his alpha up. “How are you feeling?”

“It was just a flesh wound,” Derek grumbles (but he leans heavily on the mage).

The sheriff lays a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do, son. And Stiles, everything is sorted out with Anders. I sent him back to the station. I’ll see you in a few hours, boys.”

Stiles smiles at his father. “Thanks, Dad.”

//

“I hate school events,” Stiles whines as Derek adjusts his tie and sweater.

“I know, and I do, too, but we have to prove to people that we’re responsible adults occasionally,” Derek says. “And how is it that you’re still horrible at tying a tie when I’ve been trying to teach you for ten years?”

“I can tie a tie perfectly well,” Stiles says. “I just like it better when you do it.”

Derek rolls his eyes, tucks the tie back in, and smooths over Stiles’s chest. “Why did I mate with you?” he asks, checking his own tie in the mirror once before handing Stiles his pea coat and folding his over his arm. “Let’s gather the kiddos. What is it this time?”

“Elementary school bake sale,” Stiles says. “High school is next week.”

Derek nods. “And what did we bake?” He follows his mate down the stairs.

“ _I_ made dark-chocolate-marshmallow-fluff mini cupcakes,” Stiles says. “I took some samples of the non-magic potions off the website, too. And I had Peter load them and the kids into the van. We’re taking Van Halen. Do you want to drive?”

“Sure,” he says, taking the proffered keys.

They get into the car, Stiles kicking Jackson out of shotgun. “Roll call,” Stiles says. “Liam. Miriam. Erica. Jackson. Isaac. Boyd.”

Each kid raises a hand at their name, and Stiles nods to Derek, who starts the car.

“I’d like to say something before we get there,” Derek says, turning onto the main road.

The kids fall silent at their alpha’s voice.

“There will be no bad behavior tonight,” Derek says. “Since Stiles and I go to so few of these things, since there are so many of you, we cannot have any of you misbehaving. If you do, there will be unpleasant consequences.”

“Like what?” Erica asks.

“It will depend on the nature of the offense,” Derek says drily. “I would recommend just behaving, Erica.”

She nods. “I will. I was just wondering.”

Derek smiles at his kids in the mirror. “Good.” He clears his throat. “And, of course, as always, there will be no shifting. I don’t care if someone makes you mad. Stiles and I can’t have you all exposing the pack. That’s dangerous.”

The kids all nod. They’ve heard the spiel a thousand times.

“And you each get five dollars to spend on anything you want at the bakesale,” Stiles says, sort of to change the subject, handing out stacks of five dollar bills to each kid. “And remember that you _can_ stay with Papa and me, but you don’t have to.”

Derek turns into the elementary school. “Liam, Miriam, you two need to help us carry stuff in,” he says.

They nod and follow Stiles and Derek to the trunk, which is filled with cupcake carriers and cardboard boxes. Derek takes as many cupcakes containers as he can carry. Stiles takes the rest and directs Liam and Miriam to carry the cardboard boxes. 

“Jackson, close the trunk,” Derek says. The kid scrambles to do it, and Derek locks the car.

“Alright, Hales, let’s do this,” Stiles says, grinning at Isaac, who’s practically attached himself to Stiles.

Derek finds their table and leads the kids over there. “Miriam, there should be a green tablecloth in there,” he says. “Can you put it over the table?”

She roots around and produces the teal-green cloth, putting it over the folding table. “Anything else?”

Derek sets his containers down on the table. “No, you kids are free to go as long as you stay in the gym,” he says. He takes the box from Liam and the containers from Stiles. “Babe, can you grab the poster for how much things cost?”

Stiles takes it out and attaches it to the wall behind their table. Derek begins to arrange the stuff they’ll sell on the table and put the stuff for restocking by the wall.

“Do you want to go check in, or should I?” Stiles says, squeezing Derek’s hip lightly.

Derek looks pained. “They always hit on me when you’re not around,” he says, pouting.

Stiles laughs and pulls his mate into a quick kiss before taking Isaac’s hand. “You’re hot, Der. I would _definitely_ hit on you if I were them.” He turns to Isaac. “You okay, bud?”

Isaac holds his arms up, a silent plea to be picked up. Instead, Stiles squats and hugs him.

“What’s wrong, Isaac?”

“There’s a lot of people here,” Isaac says.

Stiles hums. “There’s a lot of people at school, too,” he offers.

“But those are kids,” Isaac says.

Stiles sighs and lifts the small boy to his back. “You can ride back there for now, okay? But you need to hold on. I’m going to have to fill out some paperwork.”

The pup nods from his back, and Stiles continues on to the table, where he smiles at the woman in charge, Martha something. “Derek and I are here,” he says. “Der’s setting up.” He can hear some of the women whispering about the Hale-Stilinskis being there.

“Good, good,” Martha says, pushing a curl of dyed red hair behind her ear. “And who’s this on your back? I don’t think I’ve met him before.”

“This is one of our newest kids,” Stiles says. “Derek has a huge heart. Isaac, kiddo, say hi?”

The pup squeezes harder and shakes his head against Stiles’s back.

Stiles offers an apologetic smile. “He’s a little shy,” he says. “So…what do you need from us?”

“Well, I just need you to fill out a few things and then take your cash box,” she says, smiling a little too widely at him. “Do you two need any help setting up?”

Almost every lady around them edges closer at that. Derek pleads for him to say no through the bond. 

“I don’t know,” Stiles says with an innocent smile. “You could go ask my husband, though.” Then he finishes the paperwork and takes the tan metal box from Martha. “Thank you!”

“No, thank you,” he hears in a low purr.

“Babi, why are they so weird?” Isaac whispers into his ear.

“These women think your papa and I are good looking,” Stiles says back.

“How come you sent them to talk to Papa? He didn’t want you to,” Isaac says.

“It’s funny,” Stiles says. “Look how uncomfortable he looks at them trying to flirt with him.”

Isaac watches for a moment at the women crowding Derek’s table. “You should go help him,” the pup decides.

Stiles heaves a long fake sigh at the boy and wades in, setting a hand on Derek’s back. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “It was funny.”

“Not so funny for me,” Derek says. “How do I make them go away, Stiles?”

Stiles presses a kiss to his mate’s cheek. “I got it. Can you take Isaac?”

Derek nods and lifts the wolf cub from Stiles’s back. “When do the normal people get here?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Stiles says. Then he turns to the women, who fell mostly silent while he and Derek talked. “Thank you for all your help. Derek and I are okay for now. Have a good night.” Then he turns back to his mate and ignores the soft grumblings behind him.

“How did you do that?” Derek says.

“Easy. They don’t think I’m hot.” Stiles runs a hand through Derek’s hair where the wolf tugged at it. “You know, I don’t understand how you can so well deal with wolf things and war, but, the second there are a few women, you tuck your tail and run.”

“They think you’re hot, too, Stiles,” Derek says. “I heard them talking about wishing you’d roll your sleeves up and show off your tattoos. They think they’re quite sexy, apparently. And women are _scary_.”

“And I’m not?”

“Stiles, before I dated you, I couldn’t even ask the girl I liked to the school dance,” Derek says drily. “I’m not sure I’d say I’m good with people. Just wolves.” He sits and, when Stiles follows suit, squeezes his mate’s knee. “And you took charge in our dating stuff. That’s why I could do it.”

Isaac climbs from Derek’s shoulders to Stiles’s lap. “Papa’s nice,” he decides, cuddling into Stiles. “Babi, your sweater is itchy,” he complains.

Stiles laughs and peels it off, rolling up his sleeves, too. “Do you find my tattoos sexy?” he asks his mate, scooting his chair closer to the table.

“I find everything about you sexy,” Derek answers seriously.

“Good answer,” Stiles says. “Ready for the hordes?”

“No.” Derek takes Stiles’s hand on top of the table. “Remind me why I submit myself to this every year?”

“It makes the school think we’re responsible parents?” Stiles suggests, squeezing Derek’s hand. “Heads up.”

Derek pouts at Stiles slightly. Then he turns to the approaching parents with a sexy grin. “Hello,” he says. “My name is Derek Hale, and this is my husband Stiles. Can we interest you in a cupcake or a sample of some of the skin products Stiles makes? Each is one dollar.”

The parents come to look at the samples Stiles has spread out in front of him. “This one’s an anti-ageing cream,” he says. “This is anti-hair loss. This one is just good for rough hands. This one is sort of a muscle relaxant.”

“You make these?” the father, a man with a softening belly and a thick black beard, asks.

“Yes,” Stiles says.

“Are you sure they’re safe?” he asks, directing the question at Derek this time as his wife sniffs at the creams.

“All of our products are FDA-approved,” Derek says. “And besides, Stiles has a degree in chemical engineering from Stanford. He knows what he’s doing.”

The wife hands Stiles three dollars and takes three samples off the table. “Where do you sell these, if I like them?” she asks.

“It’s right on the label,” Stiles says, giving her a wide smile. “Thank you.”

“Babi, I’m hungry,” Isaac says.

“Well, you can go buy a snack or you can have a granola bar,” Stiles says.

“Granola bar,” Isaac says. He sets to eating it as Stiles hands it to him.

Derek and Stiles’s booth does pretty well. Derek’s even nice to the kids that come to buy the cupcakes. 

Stiles is mid-conversation with someone about his anti-ageing cream when Derek tugs sharply on his arm.

“Huh?”

“Gays,” Derek says, giving Stiles a pleading glance. He nods his head towards two women, each holding the hand of a little girl.

“You can beg them to stay here if they come here of their own accord,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes and kissing Derek’s cheek. “But you can’t leave to go get them.”

“They’ll come over,” Derek says kind of smugly.

“How do you know?” Stiles asks, taking the money that the person he was talking with offers and shifting the sleeping Isaac on his lap. He feels the boy wake up with a start and feels a little bad, but his leg was falling asleep.

“Oh, Babi, ‘Sabella and her moms are coming over,” Isaac says, pleased-sounding.

“‘Sabella?’” Stiles asks.

Isaac rolls his eyes. Stiles is glad he’s comfortable enough to do so. “ _Isa_ bella,” he corrects.

“Oh.” Stiles tickles the small boy, making him laugh. “ _Isa_ bella. Little pups who correct their dads get tickled.” He tickles him and fake growls. Derek smiles at the two fondly, squeezing Stiles’s knee again. Isaac’s high-pitched laughter rings out around them.

“Mommy, that’s Isaac and Boyd’s dads,” the little girl (presumably Isabella) explains to one of her moms. “Can we go say hi?”

“Sure, Isa,” one of them says, boosting the little girl onto a hip. “Hello, Isaac.”

“Hi,” Isaac says from his position on Stiles’s lap. He shrinks into the mage a little bit. “Hi, Isabella,” he says to the little girl with dark curly hair pulled into pigtails.

“Hi, Isaac,” she says with a gap-toothed smile. “What do your dads have?”

The two begin to talk about chocolate versus vanilla, and Stiles turns his attention to the adults. “Hi,” he says, offering a hand. “I’m Stiles. That’s Derek, my husband. Are you new to Beacon Hills?”

“Carly,” one says, shaking his hand. “And yes, we moved here a few weeks ago. Abby got a promotion if we moved down to a firm in Beacon Hills.”

“We haven’t seen any other same-sex parents yet,” the other one (Abby, Stiles reminds himself) says. “It’s good to know we won’t be the token queer parents.”

Stiles and Derek exchange amused glances. “Stiles and I are both from here. We’ve been dating since he was sixteen. I think you’re pretty safe on that regard,” Derek says. “We take the cake for weirdest family, too.”

“How so? You have Isaac and Boyd, right?”

Stiles chuckles. “And Ida, Scott, Jackson, Erica, Petey, Liam, Miriam, Cora, Rye, Xela, and Adam.”

“You have, what was that, thirteen kids?” Carly’s mouth drops open. “How do you manage?”

“Well, they’re not technically ours,” Derek says. “Cora and Liam are my little sister and brother. Xela, Rye, and Adam are…special. We have guardianship over them, but they’re not ours, and it’s different from the little ones. We also only have guardianship over Ida and Isaac, but they’re little enough that they don’t know the difference. Scott, Boyd, Jackson, Erica, Petey, and Miriam are ours.”

“Still, though. Your house must be _chaos_. We have three and that’s a lot.” Abby crosses her arms. 

“Well, the teenagers actually live in a sort of dorm that’s separate from the house. It got to the point where we couldn’t keep thirteen kids in five rooms,” Stiles admits. “And it’s not chaos when they know the rules to live by. And we have charts. So many charts.”

“And we have my uncle and Stiles’s dad,” Derek adds. “You can make anything work if you try hard enough.”

“You guys live up on the Hale preserve, right?”

Derek frowns, immediately on the defense. “Yeah, why? How’d you find out about it?”

Stiles puts a hand on Derek’s arm. “Shh, it’s fine,” he murmurs.

“I like to jog, but I’ve always felt bad crossing the lines into the preserve. It feels…weird. Paranormal.”

Stiles chuckles. “I’ve never heard anyone say that before.”

“It feels like I’m being watched,” she adds.

Stiles digs his fingers into Derek’s leg. “Our kids love to play in the woods,” he says. “I don’t think they’ve ever noticed anything like that, right, Isaac?”

“Huh?”

“Have you ever noticed anything in the woods by the house?” Stiles asks.

Isaac gives Carly and Abby one of his little angel-smiles. “No, never. I like to play there with Boyd and Jackson and Erica. Jackson taught me how to climb even the trees without branches.”

Right on cue, Erica and Jackson skid to a stop in front of their table. “Babi, can we have another dollar?” they ask.

“For what?” Stiles asks suspiciously.

They glance at Derek, who watches with a raised eyebrow, daring them to lie.

“Someone has cinnamon-sugar donuts,” Erica says, pouting.

“You can have one of my dollars,” Isaac says, handing them each one of his five.

“Sweet, thanks, Isaac!” They both scent him, one on each side, before scrambling off, arguing with each other.

Stiles lifts Isaac onto Derek’s lap when he returns to the mage. The alpha’s arms instinctively curl around the pup.

“So what do you two do for a living? It must be pretty good to support thirteen kids,” Abby says, sounding a little suspicious.

“Stiles makes skincare products for the company we run,” Derek says.

“Oh, what’s it called?”

Stiles grins. Derek hates this question. “Sourwolf Homemade Goods,” he says grudgingly.

“Babi calls Papa Sourwolf when Papa is grumpy or ‘cute,’” Isaac says, making air quotations.

Stiles grins widely. “And when Derek let me name the company…”

“What do you sell?”

“Babi makes potions,” Isaac says from the safety of Derek’s lap.

“We sell skincare products, paintings, some knitted stuff, and wood carvings,” Stiles amends, chuckling at the pup.

“And you make all those things?” Abby has her arms crossed at them.

“I make the skincare stuff, Derek’s uncle Peter makes the paintings, our daughter Miriam knits, and Adam makes wood carvings,” Stiles says. “Everyone works around the house, and we have a garden, but currently only four of us contribute to the website.”

Derek squeezes Stiles’s hand, and the two exchange a knowing smile. Isaac reaches out and rubs at Stiles’s arm, too, but Stiles is pretty sure that’s just because the little wolf likes it when he smells like Isaac.

“Have you faced any homophobia?” Carly asks.

Derek tears his gaze away from his mate. “My parents wouldn’t have heard of it. The Hales were quite a force before they…” An awkward silence occurs.

“Our condolences,” Abby says after a bit. She gestures to two empty chairs near them. “Would you mind if we…?”

“No, of course not,” Stiles says. “We should have offered.” 

Derek nudges Isaac off of his lap. “Why don’t you go play with Isabella and Boyd?” he suggests, lightly nudging him again away from the adults.

Stiles accepts the five dollars from the boys in Liam’s grade. They take their five cupcakes and head off with a nod to Stiles.

“But Papa,” Isaac says, pouting.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Derek says, nudging him again.

“Boyd,” Stiles calls. 

The kindergartener appears after a few seconds. “Yes, Babi?”

Isaac takes Derek’s momentary distraction as an opportunity to climb into Stiles’s lap and cling to the mage.

Derek sighs. “Boyd, do you want to go play with Isabella?”

“Yes,” Boyd says and beckons to the kindergartener. They disappear into the crowd.

Isaac still has his face buried in Stiles’s collared shirt, clinging with one hand to the fabric over his shoulder and with the other to his tie. Stiles kisses his forehead. “Too many adults?” he asks quietly, rubbing up and down the small boy’s back with his other hand.

Isaac nods and relaxes his grip a little bit.

“So tell us all the secrets of Beacon Hills,” Carly says, eyes sparkling.

Stiles and Derek meet each other’s eyes and laugh. “Beacon Hills is a quiet town,” Derek says. “Very little happens here.”

“Oh?” Abby says, all forced lightness. “I heard there’s been dead bodies turning up. On Hale land.”

Immediately Derek’s eyes go red at them. “Who are you?” he growls.

“Whoa, alpha-man,” Carly says. “Calm down. We mean no harm.”

“If you’re supernatural creatures, you should have come and presented yourselves to us upon arrival,” Stiles says, crossing his arms.

“Excuse me?”

Stiles turns to the person waiting at the table. “Sorry, sir. Would you like to buy something?”

“Yeah, my partner wants me to get some more…” He checks on a list. “Spicy something?”

Stiles’s hand hovers over the massage cream. “How many?”

“Four, please.” He checks the list again. “And three anti-ageing thingies?”

“Alright, that’ll be seven dollars,” Stiles says, giving the man a paper bag with the creams. “Thanks!”

“Have a good day,” he says, glancing uncertainly at Derek (who’s still glaring at the two women[?]) before leaving.

“Alright,” Stiles says. “Do you know who I am?”

“The emissary,” Carly says.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I’m also a high mage.”

“Oh. Um.”

Stiles lets his green-silver magic show in his eyes for a minute. “See? High mage. Now, what are you and why are you here?”

“The job part is true,” Carly says. “We came here for Abby’s job. And we’re both witches. We didn’t know there was a high mage here.”

Stiles taps on his chin. “Prove it.”

“Prove what?”

Stiles offers a hand to each. “Let me read you.”

“Are you an empath?” Abby says, hesitating. 

“No, but one of our daughters is. I had to learn in order to teach her.” Stiles reaches for Carly’s outstretched hand and closes his eyes. “Stop blocking me,” he says. “Or Derek and I lose the diplomacy.”

“Your kid is there—” Carly argues softly, but then she drops her shield and lets Stiles in, lets him see her innermost thoughts.

He sees a childhood ended at eleven, when she got kicked out of her religious household. He sees a coven taking her in at twelve, after a year in the foster system. He sees her meeting Abby at seventeen, thinking she never had a chance with the older girl, more a woman than girl at that point. He stops once he realizes he has no need to delve further into their private lives.

Stiles lets go of her hand and wets his lips. “Are you looking for a coven?”

Derek looks at the mage, bond flaring up. Stiles waves him off silently.

“Do you need an electricity witch and, um, a hedge witch?” Abby asks.

“Neither of you is a hedge witch,” Stiles says. “What are you, Abby?”

“A glorified librarian,” she grumbles.

“You’re a record-keeper!” Stiles exclaims with a wide smile at the woman (who’s probably seven or eight years older than he).

“Yes, we’re looking for a coven,” Carly cuts in. “Are you taking people?”

Derek holds Stiles’s eyes, and the two have a silent conversation about the impending battle.

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Derek says. “Come to our house on Friday. We will discuss it further.” The wolf, so excited by the queer couple at first, has shifted to block Stiles and his second-most vulnerable pack member from the witches.

“He doesn’t trust us,” Abby says.

“He seeks to protect those he loves,” Stiles says.

Erica and Jackson pop up in front of the table, each with their ear in the pinch of their older human siblings.

“What is it with you two and mud?” Stiles asks, sighing. “What did you do?”

“There was a big muddy puddle outside,” Erica says.

“And we got dared to swim in it,” Jackson says, wiping his hair, brown now with mud, off of his face. “So we hadda, of course.”

“Of course,” Stiles says drily. “Derek, we should head home.”

The wolf nods and lets out a small growl at his beta-children that has them glued to their spots. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just sit tight. Try to sell whatever’s left—”

“Stiles, we have three cupcakes and four samples left.”

Stiles pauses and looks at his mate and then the witches. “Would you like them? Great. Derek, can you pack everything up and get the kids to the van? Do _not_ let them in it covered in mud, by the way.” He stands, sets Isaac (who’s dozing) in Derek’s lap, and kisses Derek’s forehead, brushing past his mate’s [sexy] shaggy black hair. He ignores the stiffness he feel in Derek. He walks back over to the check-in with their cashbox and hands it in.

“Oh, the sale doesn’t end for another hour,” Martha says.

“We’re out of stock,” Stiles says, “and our kids jumped in a mud puddle.”

Her lips purse, like it’s shameful for the kids to have gotten muddy. “Well, thank you for coming,” she finally says.

Stiles hands the cashbox off to her. “Have a good night,” he says, not unkindly. Then he hurries back to the table, to find (unsurprisingly) that Derek has already gotten the kids to clear it off and taken them to the car. When he gets there, he discovers Derek’s even laid towels over the seats Erica and Jackson are to be in.

“Don’t you dare sit back against,” Stiles says.

“Can I ride with you, Babi?” Isaac asks, pouting.

“No, kiddo, Papa and I are going to ride in the front. Get in, kids.” Stiles gets into the car, ignoring the kids’ grumbling at Erica and Jackson. Derek starts the engine but waits to drive until all the kids are buckled in. He’s silent for most of the drive home, which Stiles guesses isn’t _that_ unusual for the wolf, but his hands are also a little clenched around the steering wheel, and the bond is like a brick wall when he tries that, and the kids are unusually subdued.

“Babi?” Isaac says in a tiny voice as they near home.

“Yes, Isey?” Stiles says, trying for lighthearted but knowing he’s kind of failing.

“Is Alpha gonna hurt you?” Isaac asks, eyes wide with fear. He flinches when Derek glances at him.

Derek sucks in a small gasp and then says, “No, Isaac, I would never.”

“But you’re mad at him,” Isaac says.

“I love Stiles,” Derek says. “I can be angry at him and love him and never once hurt him.”

Isaac still watches with big, worried eyes. “Please don’t hurt him, Alpha.”

Derek parks the car, and Isaac runs up to where Stiles is opening the side car door, a little sick to his stomach. He shields Stiles’s body with his own, and Derek looks like the boy just ripped his still-beating heart out.

Their children watch the silent exchange, all touching each other in some way. Stiles tries to pick the six-year-old up and move him only to have the wolf squirm out of his grasp to shield him from Derek again.

Stiles kneels in front of Isaac. “Sweetie, Derek’s not going to hurt me.”

“Then let me be there,” Isaac says, clinging onto Stiles’s tie again.

“Bud, there’s some things that have to be discussed by adults,” Stiles says, trying again to move the small, but determined, pup.

Peter kneels in front of the kid, too. “Hey, Isaac, we’re going to go inside, alright?”

“No.”

“The rest of you go inside and start your chores,” Stiles says, voice unwavering. Everyone rushes away, probably scared of the way Derek’s staring at his hands.

Peter sighs and puts Isaac on his hip, holding him there with a firm arm around the knees and torso. “I’ll tell you what, pup: you and me, we’ll give them twenty minutes to talk. And if they’re not back inside and alright in that time, then we’ll come check on them.” Then he starts to walk, before Isaac can even reply.

“Derek—” Stiles starts.

“Let’s walk,” Derek says, code for “people are still listening.” He turns and walks into the woods.

Stiles has to jog to catch up and then he reaches out for Derek’s hand, needing the physical contact he and Derek nearly always have (and he’s a little lost without). Derek stiffens for a moment and then draws Stiles into a tight hug, his nose pressed into the crook of the mage’s neck as he breathes shallowly and says nothing.

“I’m still mad,” Derek insists, even as he stands there holding Stiles as tightly as he can.

“I know,” Stiles says softly. He waits for Derek to say more.

“I love you,” Derek says, but it almost sounds like a cross between a cry of sorrow and a reprimand. “Why do you do this shit?”

“Explain, Der, please,” Stiles says softly.

“I’m the alpha, Stiles,” Derek says, rubbing a hand under his nose, which is just starting to drip a little. “And I have all of you to take care of. And if you keep undermining me around other supernatural creatures—”

He’s cut off because Stiles grabs him and pulls him into a tight hug again. “I’m sorry, Derek,” he says into the wolf’s neck. “You’re right. I’ve not been remembering the best way to act around creatures.”

“We have too much at stake, Stiles,” Derek says. But he just sounds tired now as he holds Stiles against him.

Stiles can’t quite make the sick feeling in his gut go away. “Derek—”

“It’s okay, love,” Derek says, kissing his forehead. “Are you ready to—”

“Before we go in,” Stiles says, “we should talk a bit about Isaac.”

Derek freezes and tightens his grip on Stiles’s hand. “What’s there to talk about?” he says, forcing a smile.

“It’s not you, Der,” Stiles says. “It’s not you, it’s your status as alpha. You’re doing everything right. He’s just - skittish right now.”

“He latched onto you immediately,” Derek says, voice raw.

“He looks at you like you hung the stars,” Stiles says. “He _adores_ you, Derek. You just… Sometimes he gets scared.”

Derek pulls Stiles into another huge hug. “I love you,” he murmurs against Stiles’s neck. “And most of the time, it’s fine that you act as half-high mage and half-emissary. Just…not right now.”

Stiles gives Derek a half-smile. “We should get back in.”

Derek holds Stiles’s hand as he brings them back to the house. “Peter and Isaac are waiting inside the door. Peter’s gotten the kids to finish their chores and start their homework.”

Stiles nods and goes in the door once Derek opens it. He braces himself against the alpha when he sees Isaac launch himself out of Peter’s arms and then into Stiles.

“Isaac,” Stiles says calmly, petting his head, “Derek and I are both fine. See?”

“No you’re not,” Isaac says. “He’s worried about somethin’ and you’re upset.”

Stiles purses his lips. “Adult stuff,” he says. “We’re okay, just tired. Go get in your jammies, kiddo.”

“Come with me,” Isaac insists.

Stiles feels Derek at his back, a little warmer than he is. “How about Papa takes you?”

Isaac shakes his head. “You.”

Stiles turns around, hugs Derek, and kisses his cheek. “Will you get the other kids upstairs and have them brush their teeth and get ready for bed?”

Derek nods. “Will you take Scott?”

“Yep.” Stiles nuzzles against Derek’s neck, just for a moment, and then pulls Isaac onto a hip. “Scott, come here.”

The four-year-old comes from the playroom, climbing over the childproofing. He yawns and holds his arms up for Stiles. “Hi, Babi,” he says sleepily.

“Peter, did you put Ida to bed?” Stiles asks, boosting Scott onto his free hip.

“Aleksy did,” Peter says. “About forty-five minutes ago.”

“Alright,” Stiles says, walking towards the stairs. “Thanks.”

“Alright, Scotty, my man,” Stiles says, “do you want the bubblegum-flavored toothpaste or the lemon-flavored toothpaste?”

“Lemon,” says Scott.

Stiles puts toothpaste on the purple toothbrush labeled “Scott” and hands it to the toddler. “Isaac?”

“Mint, please,” Isaac says quietly.

Stiles hands it to him and then boosts Scott up onto the counter to help him brush his teeth. As Isaac spits, Derek comes in with a parade of kids following him. 

“Liam, dude, take a shower,” Derek says. “You reek.”

“Are you okay, Derek?” Miriam wants to know. She’s observant. She has to be, being a human in a wolf pack. She learned how to be observant the hard way, too. The claw marks from the alpha attack that killed her mother and turned her father peek out through her hair. She has it combed differently tonight. It looks better when she doesn’t hide the scars, Stiles thinks. 

“Of course,” Derek says. “Brush your teeth, kids.”

Stiles boosts the two kids back onto his hips. “Let’s go. Jackson, come to your room soon.”

He hands Isaac a pair of cotton pajamas and then helps Scott into one of the old fleece onesies from when Petey and Liam were young. 

They got Scott not days after his omega mother stumbled into the hospital, eyes flashing between gold and her normal brown. Fortunately, a friend of the Hales had been on shift and kept the omega thing a secret by putting the woman under and calling for an emergency c-section. The woman died, anyway, of bleeding out from other injuries. The woman didn’t even get to name her son, but she had a list of names in her pocket, and Derek and Stiles chose Scott from that.

“Babi?” Scott kid-whispers (which means he mostly just breaths a lot while he talks normally into Stiles’s ear).

“Yes, Scotty?”

“Will you tell us a story?”

Stiles smile and sits on Jackson’s bed. Scott and Isaac scramble up there, and Stiles is sure Jackson’s not far behind. “What do you want your story to be about?”

“A princess!” Scott insists.

“Alright,” Stiles says as Jackson climbs up. “What kind of princess?”

“The kind that kills dragons,” Isaac says.

“And a werewolf best friend,” Jackson adds.

“And an evil guy that wants to take her princess-ness, like in Frozen,” Isaac says.

Stiles laughs. “Hm. Okay, kiddos. I’ll do my best.” He sits back against the wall and the three wolves cuddle up to him, Jackson on one side, Isaac on the other, and Scott between his legs, half on his chest. “ _Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a great warrior-princess. Her name was—_ ”

“Princess Joan,” Jackson interrupts.

“ _Her name was Princess Joan_ ,” Stiles says, amusement tinging his voice. “ _Every day, she trained long and hard with her father’s armies. She could beat all but one knight. And every day she would challenge him, and every day she would lose, and every day he would ridicule her for it. His name was—_ ”

“Sir Poopy-pants,” Scott supplies.

“ _His name was Sir Davis_ ,” Stiles says. “ _And one day, instead of ridiculing her, he knelt down and proposed to her in front of the king and all his armies._ ”

“Did she say yes?” Isaac asks, nose wrinkling.

“No,” Stiles says. “If you all would stop interrupting me, I would be able to tell the story. Anyway, _Sir Davis - Jeff Davis - proposed in front of the king. And the king, later, told his daughter that he wanted her to say yes._

“ _‘Why?’ she asked._

“ _‘Because his family and his family’s armies and treaties can help keep peace,’ the old king said. ‘And because when I’m gone, you will need someone to rule the kingdom with.’_

“ _‘Well,’ said the princess, ‘it won’t be him. There’s another way to keep peace in this kingdom, Father, and if you give me just six months, I’ll find it for you.’_

“ _The old king stared at his daughter for a little while. ‘Very well,’ he finally said, clasping her hands. ‘You have six months from tomorrow to bring me what you seek, and you won’t have to marry Sir Jeff.’_

“ _The princess took only a horse, two sets of clothing, a map, her sword, her bow and arrows, enough food for a week, and gold coins sewn into various places in her provisions (so she wouldn’t let people steal them from a purse). Then she said goodbye to her father, her mother, her two younger sisters, and her dog, and she left. She rode for many days and nights, sleeping in the forest and in the fields and in caves with_ spiders _before she reached the dark forest. The dark forest was the place where all the supernatural creatures lived: werewolves, witches, mages, changelings, fae, you name it, they lived there. When she first got there, she walked in the direction she knew she needed to go. But the entire time, she felt like she was being followed. She persevered, telling herself that it was just her nerves because she was in the big, creepy forest. She—_ ”

“Babi,” Scott whines.

“And you were doing so well at being quiet,” Stiles teases, fake sighing. “Shh. As I was saying, _Joan felt like there were eyes on her. Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer and took to a clearing she could shoot in, if she had to._

“ _‘Reveal yourself,’ she ordered, voice steady and clear, sword out in front of her._

“ _One by one, a large group of werewolves materialized and knelt in front of her. ‘My lady,’ one said, a girl not too much older than she, ‘why are you alone in the dark forest?’ The golden eyes that had flickered on when the girl had seen Joan now gave way to dark brown eyes set deep into deep earth-colored skin._

“ _Joan sheathed her sword. ‘I am here to find a certain witch,’ she said._

“ _A middle-aged woman stood and said, ‘I am Alpha Alessia. Please, if my lady would come to our village and share a meal with us.’_

“ _Joan bowed deeply to the werewolf alpha. ‘I would be honored,’ she said. ‘Is it alright for me to bring my horse, or would you rather me tie her somewhere?’_

“ _‘No, bring her,’ said the girl that had first spoken to her. ‘I’m Bronisława, by the way.’_

“ _Joan offered a hand to the girl. ‘I’m Joan,’ said she._

“ _‘But my lady,’ Bronisława protested._

“‘Joan,’ Joan said again with a firm smile. ‘And I’m hungry.’

“ _‘Me, too,’ said Bronisława with a grin. ‘My dad cooked. He makes the best rabbit stew.’_ ”

“Ew!” Scott says. “Rabbits are _furry_.”

“They’d take the fur off before they made it into stew, dimwit,” Jackson says, rolling his eyes.

Stiles flicks both of them. “Shh. We’re almost done for tonight.”

“You have to finish the story!” Jackson says. “You can’t leave us on a cliffhanger.”

“Hush,” Stiles says again. “Now, Bronisława and Joan were headed to eat, right?”

“Yeah,” Isaac says, snuffling into Stiles’s chest.

“ _So Bronisława and Joan ate dinner together, quickly becoming friends. The wise alpha noticed, but she said nothing to either of them. And by the end of the meal, the pups, the ones who had been left in the small village with the elders, were climbing all over Joan. The wise alpha noticed this also. She observed Joan interact with her pack and made her decision, clearing her throat as she stood._

“ _At once, everyone fell silent. The alpha put her hands on the shoulder of Bronisława and the shoulder of Joan. ‘Bronisława will go with you, lead you to what you seek,’ she said._

“ _And there was chaos. The pack all seemed to disagree with the alpha’s choice. But Bronisława was silent for a while, even amidst the anger of the pack._

“ _‘I will go,’ she said, standing and offering a hand to Joan._

“ _‘You cannot send the heir of the pack away and not know if she will come back,’ an older wolf said._

“ _‘You cannot send our_ daughter _away and not know if she will come back,” a different wolf said, wiping his hands clean on the apron tied around his hips._

“ _‘I understand why Mother is doing it,’ Bronisława said, taking her father’s hands. ‘And, besides, it’s my destiny, Father.’_

“ _Her father, and many of her pack, were horrified to see her leave with Joan, but the two set out. At first, conversation was awkward, and Joan stumbled over every question she asked and every question she answered, but it eventually got easier, until the two were practically speaking in unison._

“ _It took only three days and nights for the two to reach the witch’s house. The witch was already awaiting them when they reached the hut. ‘Princess Joan and her werewolf,’ said the old witch, hair white like snow and face wrinkled like an earthworm. ‘You’ve arrived.’_

“ _The princess bowed to the witch, and Bronisława hurried to copy her. ‘Ma’am,’ said Joan. ‘I wish to ask for your help.’_

“ _‘Yes, I know,’ said the old witch. ‘I know what you will say. Here is my offer: I will help you find what you seek if you stay with me for a bit.’_

“ _‘How long?’ Bronisława asked._

“ _‘Until the work is done,’ said the witch easily. ‘So? What will you do?’_ ” Stiles yawns and stretches. “Alright, boys, get in bed.” 

“Babi,” Jackson whines. “You left it on a cliffhanger.” 

“That story’s too long for me to tell in one sitting,” Stiles says, getting off the bed and scooping each Scott and Isaac up. “I’ll finish it soon,” the mage promises. “Goodnight, boys.” As soon as he shuts the door, he sighs and runs right into Derek. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” Derek takes him lightly by the elbow. “You should go to bed.” 

“No, I’ve got to make a few potions,” Stiles says. 

“Forty-five minutes.” 

“Alright,” Stiles says and goes to his workshop. 

// 

“Oh my god,” Derek says, groaning and rolling over. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re tired as all hell and you won’t stop moving around.” He looks over at his mate. 

Stiles went to bed all the way away from his mate and flinched away when Derek tried to wrap himself around the mage like he normally does. 

Stiles sniffs once and freezes. He’s betrayed his feelings. 

“C’mere,” Derek says softly. “You know I love you, right?” 

Stiles wriggles into Derek’s arms, not saying anything. 

“I know this has all been hard,” Derek continues. “And it’s been tough on us. And I’ve been kind of…abrasive. But you should always know I love you, okay?” 

Stiles nods and holds onto Derek. 

“And your story tonight was good. We were all listening.” Derek presses a kiss to Stiles’s temple. “Now go to sleep.” 


End file.
